Richard  Harding  Davis 


B«rtrarvrf  Smith 
Acre*  of  BeolM 
140  Pacific  A<*. 


VERA 

THE  MEDIUM 


Vera,  in  a  hushed  and  solemn  voice,  called  for  silence. 


VERA 

THE    MEDIUM 


BY 


RICHARD    HARDING   DAVIS 

AUTHOR  OF  "  THE  CONGO  AND   COASTS   OF  AFRICA,"  "  WITH   BOTH  ARMIES 

IN  SOUTH  AFRICA,"  "THE  CUBAN  AND  PORTO  RICAN  CAMPAIGNS," 

"  SOLDIERS  OF  FORTUNE,"  "  IN  THE  FOG,"  "  GALLEGHER," 

"  THE  PRINCESS  ALINE,"   "  VAN  BIBBER," 

"THB  SCARLET  CAR" 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 
FREDERIC  DORR  STEELE 


CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
NEW  YORK     ::     ::     ::     ::     1908 


COPYRIGHT,  1908,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Published  June,  1008 


PS 

1 5 

V4 


TO 

VANDERHEYDEN   FYLES 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Vera,  in  a  hushed  and  solemn  voice,  called  for  silence 

(Frontispiece) 

FACING 

PAGE 

"Fix  it?"  said  the  reporter.     "Not  with  me,  you 
can't" 22 

"I  will  not,"  she  rebelled.    "I  hate  it  I"     ....    90 

Suddenly  they    saw  each    other  with  a  new  and 

wonderful  sympathy 140 

"Professor  Strombergk,"  announced  Vance      .     .     .  186 
"Tell  me  if  I  hurt  you,"  he  murmured 198 


VERA,  THE  MEDIUM 


VERA,  THE  MEDIUM 


PART  I 

T  TAFFY  in  the  hope  that  the  news  was 
•*•  •*•  " exclusive,"  the  Despatch  had  thrown 
the  name  of  Stephen  Hallowell,  his  portrait, 
a  picture  of  his  house,  and  the  words,  "At 
Point  of  Death!"  across  three  columns.  The 
announcement  was  heavy,  lachrymose,  bris 
tling  with  the  melancholy  self-importance  of 
the  man  who  "saw  the  deceased,  just  two 
minutes  before  the  train  hit  him." 

But  the  effect  of  the  news  fell  short  of  the 
effort.  Save  that  city  editors  were  irritated 
that  the  presidents  of  certain  railroads  fig 
ured  hastily  on  slips  of  paper,  the  fact  that 
an  old  man  and  his  millions  would  soon  be 
parted,  left  New  York  undisturbed. 
3 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

In  the  early  '80's  this  would  not  have  been 
so.  Then,  in  the  uplifting  of  the  far  West, 
Stephen  Hallowell  was  a  national  figure,  in 
the  manosuvres  of  the  Eastern  stock  market 
an  active,  alert  power.  In  those  days,  when 
a  man  with  a  few  millions  was  still  listed  as 
rich,  his  fortune  was  considered  colossal. 

A  patent  coupling-pin,  the  invention  of 
his  brother-in-law,  had  given  him  his  start, 
and,  in  introducing  it,  and  in  his  efforts  to 
force  it  upon  the  new  railroads  of  the  West, 
he  had  obtained  a  knowledge  of  their  af 
fairs.  From  that  knowledge  came  his 
wealth.  That  was  twenty  years  ago.  Since 
then  giants  had  arisen  in  the  land;  men 
whose  wealth  made  the  fortune  of  Stephen 
Hallowell  appear  a  comfortable  competence, 
his  schemes  and  stratagems,  which,  in  their 
day,  had  bewildered  Wall  Street,  as  simple 
as  the  trading  across  the  counter  of  a  cross 
roads  store. 

For  years  he  had  been  out  of  it.  He  had 
4 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

lost  count.  Disuse  and  ill-health  had  ren 
dered  his  mind  feeble,  made  him  at  times 
suspicious,  at  times  childishly  credulous. 
Without  friends,  alone  with  his  physician  and 
the  butler,  who  was  also  his  nurse,  he  lived  in 
the  house  that  in  76,  in  a  burst  of  vanity,  he 
had  built  on  Fifth  Avenue.  Then  the  house 
was  a  "  mansion,"  and  its  front  of  brown 
sandstone  the  outward  sign  of  wealth  and 
fashion.  Now,  on  one  side,  it  rubbed  shoul 
ders  with  the  shop  of  a  man  milliner,  and 
across  the  street  the  houses  had  been  torn 
down,  and  replaced  by  a  department  store. 
Now,  instead  of  a  sombre  jail-like  facade,  his 
outlook  was  a  row  of  waxen  ladies,  who, 
before  each  change  of  season,  appeared  in 
new  and  gorgeous  raiment,  and,  across  the 
Avenue,  for  his  approval,  smiled  continually. 
"It  is  time  you  moved,  Stephen,"  urged 
his  friend  and  lawyer,  Judge  Henry  Gaylor. 
"I  can  get  you  twice  as  much  for  this  lot  as 
you  paid  for  both  it  and  the  house." 
5 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

But  Mr.  Hallowell  always  shook  his  head. 
"Where  would  I  go,  Henry?"  he  would  ask. 
"What  would  I  do  with  the  money?  No,  I 
will  live  in  this  house  until  I  am  carried  out 
of  it." 

•  ••*•*•  • 

With  distaste,  the  irritated  city  editors 
"followed  up"  the  three-column  story  of 
the  Despatch. 

"Find  out  if  there's  any  truth  in  that," 
they  commanded.  "The  old  man  won't  see 
you,  but  get  a  talk  out  of  Rainey.  And  see 
Judge  Gaylor.  He's  close  to  Hallowell.  Find 
out  from  him  if  that  story  didn't  start  as  a 
bear  yarn  in  Wall  Street." 

So,  when  Walsh  of  the  Despatch  was  con 
ducted  by  Garrett,  the  butler  of  Mr.  Hallo- 
well,  upstairs  to  that  gentleman's  library,  he 
found  a  group  of  reporters  already  en 
trenched.  At  the  door  that  opened  from  the 
library  to  the  bedroom,  the  butler  paused. 
"What  paper  shall  I  say?"  he  asked. 
6 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"The  Despatch,"  Walsh  told  him. 

The  servant  turned  quickly  and  stared  at 
Walsh. 

He  appeared  the  typical  butler,  an  Eng 
lishman  of  over  forty,  heavily  built,  soft- 
moving,  with  ruddy,  smooth-shaven  cheeks 
and  prematurely  gray  hair.  But  now,  from 
his  face  the  look  of  perfunctory  politeness 
had  fallen;  the  subdued  voice  had  changed 
to  a  snarl  that  carried  with  it  the  accents  of 
the  Tenderloin. 

"So,  you're  the  one,  are  you?"  the  man 
muttered. 

For  a  moment  he  stood  scowling;  inso 
lent,  almost  threatening;  and  then,  once 
more  the  servant,  opened  the  door  and 
noiselessly  closed  it  behind  him. 

The  transition  had  been  so  abrupt,  the 
revelation  so  unexpected,  that  the  men 
laughed. 

"I  don't  blame  him!"  said  young  Irving, 
"7  couldn't  find  a  single  fact  in  the  whole 
7 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

story.     How'd  your  people  get  it;    pretty 
straight?" 

"Seemed  straight  to  us,"  said  Walsh. 

"Well,  you  didn't  handle  it  that  way," 
returned  the  other.  "Why  didn't  you  quote 
Rainey  or  Gaylor?  It  seems  to  me  if  a  man's 
on  the  point  of  death — "  he  lowered  his  voice 
and  glanced  toward  the  closed  door,  "that 
his  private  doctor  and  his  lawyer  might 
know  something  about  it." 

Standing  alone  with  his  back  to  the  win 
dow  was  a  reporter  who  had  greeted  no  one 
and  to  whom  no  one  had  spoken. 

Had  he  held  himself  erect  he  would  have 
been  tall,  but  he  stood  slouching  lazily,  his 
shoulders  bent,  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 
When  he  spoke  his  voice  was  in  keeping  with 
the  indolence  of  his  bearing.  It  was  soft, 
hesitating,  carrying  with  it  the  courteous 
deference  of  the  South.  Only  his  eyes 
showed  that  to  what  was  going  forward  he 
was  alert  and  attentive. 
8 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"Is  Dr.  Rainey  Mr.  HallowelFs  family 
doctor?  "  he  asked. 

Irving  surveyed  him  in  amused  superiority. 

"He  is!"  he  answered.  "You  been  long 
in  New  York?"  he  asked. 

Upon  the  stranger  the  sarcasm  was  lost, 
or  he  chose  to  ignore  it,  for  he  answered 
simply,  "No,  I'm  a  New  Orleans  boy.  I've 
just  been  taken  on  the  Republic." 

"Welcome  to  our  city,"  said  Irving. 
"What  do  you  think  of  our  Main  Street?" 

From  the  hall  a  tall  portly  man  entered 
the  room  with  the  assurance  of  one  much  at 
home  here;  and  with  an  exclamation  Irving 
fell  upon  him. 

"Good  morning,  Judge,"  he  called.  He 
waved  at  him  the  clipping  from  the  Des 
patch.  "Have  you  seen  this?" 

Judge  Gaylor  accepted  the  slip  of  paper 

gingerly,  and  in  turn  moved  his  fine  head 

pompously  toward  each  of  the  young  men. 

Most  of  them  were  known  to  him,  but  for 

9 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

the  moment  he  preferred  to  appear  too 
deeply  concerned  to  greet  them.  With  an 
expression  of  shocked  indignation,  he  rec 
ognized  only  Walsh. 

"Yes,  I  have  seen  it,"  he  said,  "and  there 
is  not  a  word  of  truth  in  it!  Mr.  Walsh,  I 
am  surprised!  You,  of  all  people!" 

"We  got  it  on  very  good  authority,"  said 
the  reporter. 

"But  why  not  call  me  up,  and  get  the 
facts?"  demanded  the  Judge.  "I  was  here 
until  twelve  o'clock,  and " 

"Here!"  interrupted  Irving.  "Then  he 
did  have  a  collapse?" 

Judge  Gay  lor  swung  upon  his  heel. 

"Certainly  not,"  he  retorted  angrily.  "I 
was  here  on  business;  and  I  have  never 
known  his  mind  more  capable,  more  alert." 
He  lifted  his  hands  with  an  enthusiastic 
gesture.  "I  wish  you  could  have  seen  him!" 

"Well,"  urged  Irving,  "how  about  our 
seeing  him  now?" 

10 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

For  a  moment  Judge  Gaylor  permitted 
his  annoyance  to  appear,  but  he  at  once  re 
covered,  and  murmuring  cheerfully,  "  Cer 
tainly,  certainly;  I'll  try  to  arrange  it," 
turned  to  the  butler  who  had  re-entered 
the  room. 

"Garrett,"  he  inquired,  "is  Mr.  Hallowell 
awake  yet?"  As  he  asked  the  question  his 
eyebrows  rose;  with  an  almost  imperceptible 
shake  of  the  head,  he  signalled  for  an  answer 
in  the  negative. 

"Well,  there  you  are!"  the  Judge  ex 
claimed  heartily.  "I  can't  wake  him,  even 
to  oblige  you.  In  a  word,  gentlemen,  Ste 
phen  Hallowell  has  never  been  in  better 
health,  mentally  and  bodily.  You  can  say 
that  from  me — and  that's  all  there  is  to  say." 

"Then,  we  can  say,"  persisted  Irving, 
"that  you  say,  that  Walsh's  story  is  a  fake?" 

"You  can  say  it  is  not  true,"  corrected 
Gaylor.  "That's  all,  gentlemen."  The 
audience  was  at  an  end.  The  young  men 
11 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

moved  toward  the  hall  and  Judge  Gaylor 
turned  to  the  bedroom.  As  he  did  so,  he 
found  that  the  new  man  on  the  Republic  still 
held  his  ground. 

"Could  I  have  a  word  with  you,  sir?"  the 
stranger  asked.  The  reporters  halted  jeal 
ously.  Again  Gaylor  showed  his  impatience. 

"About  Mr.  Hallowell's  health?"  he  de 
manded.  "There's  nothing  more  to  say." 

"No,  it's  not  about  his  health,"  ventured 
the  reporter. 

"Well,  not  now.  I  am  very  late  this 
morning."  The  Judge  again  moved  to  the 
bedroom  and  the  reporter,  as  though  accept 
ing  the  verdict,  started  to  follow  the  others. 
As  he  did  so,  as  though  in  explanation,  or 
as  a  warning,  he  added:  "You  said  to  always 
come  to  you  for  the  facts."  The  lawyer 
halted,  hesitating.  "What  facts  do  you 
want?"  he  asked.  The  reporter  bowed,  and 
waved  his  broad  felt  hat  toward  the  listening 
men.  In  polite  embarrassment  he  explained 
12 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

what  he  had  to  say  could  not  be  spoken  in 
their  presence. 

Something  in  the  manner  of  the  stranger 
led  Judge  Gaylor  to  pause.  He  directed 
Garrett  to  accompany  the  reporters  from 
the  room.  Then,  with  mock  politeness,  he 
turned  to  the  one  who  remained.  "I  take  it, 
you  are  a  newcomer  in  New  York  journalism. 
What  is  your  name?"  he  asked. 

"My  name  is  Homer  Lee,"  said  the  South 
erner.  "  I  am  a  New  Orleans  boy.  I've  been 
only  a  month  in  your  city.  Judge,"  he  began 
earnestly,  but  in  a  voice  which  still  held  the 
drawl  of  the  South,  "I  met  a  man  from  home 
last  week  on  Broadway.  He  belonged  to  that 
spiritualistic  school  on  Carondelet  Street. 
He  knows  all  that's  going  on  in  the  spook 
world,  and  he  tells  me  the  ghost  raisers  have 
got  their  hooks  into  the  old  man  pretty  deep. 
Is  that  so?" 

The  bewilderment  of  Judge  Gaylor  was 
complete,  and,  without  question,  genuine. 
13 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean?"  he  said. 

"My  informant  tells  me,"  continued  the 
reporter,  "that  Mr.  Hallowell  has  embraced 
— if  that's  what  you  call  it — spiritualism." 

Gaylor  started  forward. 

"What!"  he  roared. 

Unmoved,  the  other  regarded  the  Judge 
keenly. 

"Spiritualism,"  he  repeated,  "and  that  a 
bunch  of  these  mediums  have  got  him  so 
hypnotized  he  can't  call  his  soul  his  own,  or 
his  money,  either.  Is  that  true?" 

Judge  Gaylor's  outburst  was  overwhelm 
ing.  That  it  was  genuine  Mr.  Lee,  observing 
him  closely,  was  convinced. 

"Of  all  the  outrageous,  ridiculous — "  the 
Judge  halted,  gasping  for  words,  "and  li- 
belous  statements!"  he  went  on.  "If  you 
print  that,"  he  thundered,  "Mr.  Hallowell 
will  sue  your  paper  for  half  a  million  dollars. 
Can't  you  see  the  damage  you  would  do? 
Can't  your  people  see  that  if  the  idea  got 
14 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

about  that  he  was  unable  to  direct  his  own 
affairs,  that  he  was  in  the  hands  of  mediums, 
it  would  invalidate  everything  he  does? 
After  his  death,  every  act  of  his  at  this  time, 
every  paper  he  had  signed,  would  be  sus 
pected,  and — and — "  stammered  the  Judge 
as  his  imagination  pictured  what  might  fol 
low,  "they  might  even  attack  his  will!"  He 
advanced  truculently.  "Do  you  mean  to 
publish  this  libel?" 

Lee  moved  his  shoulders  in  deprecation. 
"I'm  afraid  we  must"  he  said. 

"You  must!"  demanded  Gaylor.  "After 
what  I've  told  you?  Do  you  think  I'm  lying 
to  you?" 

"No,"  said  the  reporter;  "I  don't  think 
you  are.  Looks  more  like  you  didn't  know." 

"Not  know?  I?"  Gaylor  laughed  hys 
terically.  "I  am  his  lawyer.  I  am  his  best 
friend!  Who  will  you  believe? "  He  stepped 
to  the  table  and  pressed  an  electric  button, 
and  Garrett  appeared  in  the  hall.  "Tell  Dr. 
15 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

Rainey  I  want  to  see  him,"  Gaylor  com 
manded,  "and  return  with  him." 

As  they  waited,  Judge  Gaylor  paced  quickly 
to  and  fro.  "I've  had  to  deny  some  pretty 
silly  stories  about  Mr.  Hallowell,"  he  said, 
"but  of  all  the  absurd,  malicious — there's 
some  enemy  back  of  this,  some  one  in  Wall 
Street  is  doing  this.  But  I'll  find  him — 
I'll — "  he  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of 
the  butler  and  Dr.  Rainey,  Mr.  HallowelFs 
personal  physician. 

Rainey  was  a  young  man  with  a  weak  face; 
and  knowing,  shifting  eyes  that  blinked  be 
hind  a  pair  of  eye-glasses.  To  conceal  an  in 
decision  of  character  of  which  he  was  quite 
conscious,  he  assumed  a  manner  that,  accord 
ing  to  whom  he  addressed,  was  familiar  or 
condescending.  At  one  of  the  big  hospitals 
he  had  been  an  ambulance  surgeon  and  resi 
dent  physician,  later  he  had  started  upon  a 
somewhat  doubtful  career  as  a  medical 
"expert."  Only  two  years  had  passed  since 
16 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

the  police  and  the  reporters  of  the  Tender 
loin  had  ceased  calling  him  "Doc."  In  a  cele 
brated  criminal  case  in  which  Gaylor  had 
acted  as  chief  counsel,  he  had  found  Rainey 
complaisant  and  apparently  totally  without 
the  moral  sense.  And  when  in  Garrett  he 
had  discovered  for  Mr.  Hallowell  a  model 
servant,  he  had  also  urged  upon  his  friend, 
for  his  resident  physician,  his  protege  Rainey. 

Still  at  white  heat,  the  older  man  began 
abruptly. 

"This  gentleman  is  from  the  Republic. 
He  is  going  to  publish  a  story  that  Mr.  Hal 
lowell  has  fallen  under  the  influence  of  me 
diums,  clairvoyants;  that  everything  he 
does  is  on  advice  from  the  spirit  world — " 
he  turned  sharply  upon  Lee.  "Is  that 
right?"  The  reporter  nodded. 

"You  can  see  the  effect  of  such  a  story. 
It  would  invalidate  every  act  of  Mr.  Hallo- 
well's!" 

Dr.  Rainey  laughed  offensively. 
17 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"It  might,"  he  said,  "but  who'd  believe 
it?" 

"He  believes  it!"  cried  Gaylor,  "or  he 
pretends  to  believe  it.  Tell  him!"  he  com 
manded.  "He  won't  believe  me.  Does  Mr. 
Hallowell  associate  with  mediums,  and  spir 
its — and  spooks?" 

Again  the  young  doctor  laughed. 

"Of  course  not!"  he  exclaimed.  "It's 
not  worth  answering,  Judge.  You  ought  to 
treat  it  with  silent  contempt."  From  behind 
his  glasses  he  winked  at  the  reporter  with  a 
jocular,  intimate  smile.  He  was  adapting 
himself  to  what  he  imagined  was  his  com 
pany.  "Where  did  you  pick  up  that  pipe 
dream?"  he  asked. 

Without  answering,  the  Southerner  re 
garded  him  steadily,  with  inquiring,  inter 
ested  eyes.  The  doctor  coughed  nervously, 
and  turned  to  Judge  Gaylor.  In  the  manner 
of  a  cross-examination  Gaylor  called  up  his 
next  witness. 

18 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"Garrett,  does  any  one  visit  Mr.  Hallo- 
well  without  your  knowledge?"  he  asked. 
''You  may  not  open  the  door  for  him,  but 
you  know  every  one  who  gets  in  to  see  Mr. 
Hallowell,  do  you  not?" 

"Every  one,  sir." 

"Do  you  admit  any  mediums,  palm- 
readers,  or  people  of  that  sort?" 

"Certainly  not,"  returned  the  butler. 

"Dr.  Rainey,"  he  added,  "would  not 
permit  it,  sir." 

Gay  lor  stamped  his  foot  with  impatience. 

"Do  you  admit  any  one,"  he  demanded, 
"without  Dr.  Rainey's  permission?" 

"No,  sir!"  The  reply  could  not  have  rung 
with  greater  emphasis.  Triumphantly,  Gay- 
lor,  with  a  wave  of  the  hand,  as  though  say 
ing,  "Take  the  witness,"  turned  to  Lee. 
"There  you  are,"  he  cried.  "Now,  are  you 
satisfied?" 

The  reporter  moved  slowly  toward  the 
door.  "I  am  satisfied,"  he  said,  "that  the 
19 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

man  doesn't  admit  any  one  without  Dr. 
Rainey's  permission." 

Indignantly,  as  though  to  intercept  him, 
Judge  Gaylor  stepped  forward.  Both  Rainey 
and  himself  spoke  together. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  Rainey 
demanded. 

"Are  you  trying  to  be  insolent,  sir?"  cried 
the  Judge. 

Lee  smiled  pleasantly.  "I  had  no  inten 
tion  of  being  insolent,"  he  said.  "We  have 
the  facts — I  only  came  to  give  you  a  chance 
to  explain  them." 

Gaylor  lost  all  patience. 

"What  facts?"  he  shouted.  "What  facts? 
That  mediums  come  here?" 

"Yes,"  said  Lee. 

"When?"  Gaylor  cried.  "Tell  me  that! 
When?" 

Lee  regarded  the  older  man  thoughtfully. 

"Well,  to-day  is  Thursday,"  he  said; 
"They  were  here  Monday  morning,  and 
20 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

Tuesday  morning — and — the  one  they  call 
Vera — will  be  here  in  half  an  hour." 

Rainey  ran  across  the  room,  stretching 
out  eager,  detaining  hands. 

"See  here!"  he  begged.  "We  can  fix 
this!" 

"Fix  it?"  said  the  reporter.  "Not  with 
me,  you  can't."  He  turned  to  the  door  and 
found  Garrett  barring  his  exit.  He  halted, 
fell  back  on  his  heels  and  straightened  his 
shoulders.  For  the  first  time  they  saw  how 
tall  he  was. 

"Get  out  of  my  way,"  he  said.  The  but 
ler  hesitated  and  fell  back.  Lee  walked  into 
the  hall. 

"I'll  leave  you  gentlemen  to  fight  it  out 
among  you,"  he  said.  "It's  a  better  story 
than  I  thought." 

As  he  descended  to  the  floor  below,  the 

men    remained    motionless.     The    face    of 

Judge  Gaylor  seemed  to  have  grown  older. 

When  the  front  door  closed,  he  turned  and 

21 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

searched  the  countenance  of  each  of  his 
companions.  The  butler  had  dropped  into 
a  chair,  muttering,  and  beating  his  fist  into 
his  open  palm. 

Gaylor's  voice  was  hardly  louder  than  a 
whisper.  "Is  this  true?"  he  asked. 

Like  a  cur  dog  pinned  in  a  corner,  and 
forced  to  fight,  Rainey  snarled  at  him  evilly. 
"Of  course  it's  true,"  he  said. 

"You've  let  these  people  see  him!"  cried 
Gaylor.  "After  I  forbade  it?  After  I  told 
you  what  would  happen?" 

"He  would  see  them,"  Rainey  answered 
hotly.  "'Twas  better  I  chose  them, 
than " 

Gaylor  raised  his  clenched  hands  and  took 
a  sudden  step  forward.  The  Doctor  backed 
hastily  against  the  library  table.  "Don't 
you  come  near  me!"  he- stammered,  "Don't 
you  touch  me." 

"And  you've  lied  to  me!"  cried  Gaylor. 
"You've  deceived  me.  You — you  jailbirds 
22 


"Fix  it?"  said  the  reporter.     "Not  with  me,  you  can't. 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

— you  idiots — "  His  voice  rose  hysterically. 
"And  do  you  think,"  he  demanded  fiercely, 
"I'll  help  you  now?" 

"No!  "said  the  butler. 

The  word  caught  the  Judge  in  the  full 
rush  of  his  anger.  He  turned  stupidly  as 
though  he  had  not  heard  aright.  "What?" 
he  asked.  From  the  easy  chair  the  butler 
regarded  him  with  sullen,  hostile  eyes. 

"No!"  he  repeated,  "We  don't  think 
you'll  help  us.  You  never  meant  to  help  us. 
You've  never  thought  of  any  one  but  your 
self." 

The  face  of  the  older  man  was  filled  with 
reproach. 

"Jim!"  he  protested. 

"Don't  do  that!"  commanded  the  butler 
sharply,  "I've  told  you  not  to  do  that." 

The  Judge  moved  his  head  slowly  in 
amazement.  The  tone  of  reproach  was  still 
in  his  voice. 

"I  thought  you  could  understand,"  he 
23 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

said.  "It  doesn't  matter  about  him.  But 
you!  You  should  have  seen  what  I  was 
doing!" 

"I  saw  what  you  were  doing,"  the  butler 
replied.  "Buying  stocks,  buying  a  country 
place.  You  didn't  wait  for  him  to  die.  What 
were  we  getting?" 

With  returning  courage,  Rainey  nodded 
vigorously. 

"That's  right,  all  right,"  he  protested, 
"What  were  we  getting?" 

"What  were  you  getting?"  demanded 
Gaylor,  eagerly.  "If  you'd  only  left  him  to 
me,  till  he  signed  the  new  will,  you'd  have 
had  everything.  It  only  needs  his  signature." 

"Yes,"  interrupted  Garrett  contemptu 
ously,  "that's  all  it  needs.'' 

"Oh,  he'd  have  signed  it!"  cried  Gaylor. 
' '  But  what's  it  worth  now!  Nothing !  Thanks 
to  you  two,  nothing!  They'll  claim  undue 
influence,  they'll  claim  he  signed  it  under  the 
influence  of  mediums — of  ghosts."  His  voice 
24 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

shook  with  anger  and  distress.  "  You've 
ruined  me!"  he  cried.  "You've  ruined 
me." 

He  turned  and  paced  from  them,  his  fin 
gers  interlacing,  his  teeth  biting  upon  his 
lower  lip.  The  two  other  men  glanced  at 
each  other  uncomfortably;  their  silence 
seemed  to  assure  Gaylor  that  already  they 
regretted  what  they  had  done.  He  stood 
over  Garrett,  and  for  an  instant  laid  his  hand 
upon  his  shoulder.  His  voice  now  was  sane 
and  cold. 

"Fve  worked  three  years  for  this,"  he 
said.  "And  for  you,  too,  Jim.  You  know 
that.  I've  worked  on  his  vanity,  on  his  fear 
of  death,  on  his  damn  superstition.  When 
he  talked  of  restitution,  of  giving  the  money 
to  his  niece,  I  asked  'Why?'  I  said,  'Leave 
it  for  a  great  monument  to  your  memory. 
Isn't  it  better  that  ten  million  dollars  should 
be  spent  in  good  works  in  your  name  than 
that  it  should  go  to  a  chit  of  a  child  to  be 
25 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

wasted  by  some  fortune  hunter?  And — then 
— I  evolved  the  Hallowell  Institute,  univer 
sity,  hospital,  library,  all  under  one  roof,  all 
under  one  direction;  and  I  would  have  been 
the  director.  We  should  have  handled  ten 
millions  of  dollars!  I'd  have  made  you  both 
so  rich,"  he  cried,  savagely,  "that  in  two 
years  you'd  have  drunk  yourselves  into  a 
mad-house.  And  you  couldn't  trust  me! 
You've  filled  this  house  with  fakes  and  palm- 
readers.  And,  now,  every  one  will  know  just 
what  he  is;  a  senile,  half-witted  old  man; 
who  was  clay  in  my  hands,  clay  in  my  hands 
— and  you've  robbed  me  of  him,  you've 
robbed  me  of  him!"  His  voice,  broken  with 
anger  and  disappointment,  rose  in  an  hyster 
ical  wail.  As  though  to  meet  it  a  bell  rang 
shrilly.  Gaylor  started,  and  stood  with  eyes 
fixed  on  the  door  of  the  bedroom.  The  three 
men  eyed  each  other  guiltily. 

The  butler  was  the  first  to  recover.    With 
mask-like  face  he  hastened  noiselessly  across 
26 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

the  room.    In  his  tones  of  usual  authority, 
Gaylor  stopped  him. 

"Tell  Mr.  Hallowell,"  he  directed,  "that 
his  niece  and  District  Attorney  Winthrop 
will  be  here  any  moment.  Ask  him  if  he 
wishes  me  to  see  them,  or  if  he  will  talk  to 
them  himself?" 

When  the  faithful  servant  had  entered  the 
bedroom  Gaylor  turned  to  Rainey. 

"When  do  these  mediums  come  to-day?" 
he  asked. 

Rainey  stared  sulkily  at  the  floor. 

"I  think  they're  here  now — downstairs," 
he  answered.  "Garrett  generally  hides  them 
there  till  you're  out  of  the  house." 

"Indeed,"  commented  Gaylor  dryly.  "Af 
ter  Winthrop  and  Miss  Coates  have  gone,  I 
want  to  talk  with  your  friends." 

"Now,  see  here,  Judge,"  whined  Rainey, 
"Don't  make  trouble.  It  isn't  as  bad  as  you 
think.  The  old  man's  only  investigate 

ing " 

27 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"Hush!"  commanded  the  Judge. 

From  the  bedroom,  leaning  on  the  butler's 
arm,  Stephen  Hallowell  came  stumbling 
toward  them,  and  with  a  sigh,  sank  into  an 
invalid's  chair  that  was  placed  for  him  be 
tween  the  fire  and  the  long  library  table.  He 
was  a  very  feeble,  very  old  man,  with  a  white 
face,  and  thin,  white  hair;  but,  with  a  mouth 
and  lower  jaw  as  hard  and  uncompromising 
as  those  of  a  skull.  His  eyes,  which  were 
strangely  brilliant  and  young-looking,  peered 
suspiciously  from  under  ragged  white  eye 
brows.  But  when  they  fell  upon  the  Doctor, 
the  eyes  became  suddenly  credulous,  plead 
ing,  filled  with  self-pity. 

"I'm  a  very  sick  man,  Doctor,"  said  Mr. 
Hallowell. 

Judge  Gaylor  bustled  forward  cheerily. 
"Nonsense,  Stephen,  nonsense,"  he  cried, 
"you  look  a  different  man  this  morning, 
doesn't  he,  Doctor?" 

"Sure,  he  does!"  assented  Rainey.  "Lit- 
28 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

tie  sleep  was  all  he  needed."  Mr.  Hallowell 
shook  his  head  petulantly.  "Not  at  all!"  he 
protested.  "That  was  a  very  serious  attack. 
This  morning,  my  head  hurts — hurts  me  to 
think " 

"Perhaps,"  said  Gaylor,  "You'd  prefer 
that  I  talked  to  your  niece." 

"No!"  exclaimed  the  invalid  excitedly. 
"I  want  to  see  her  myself.  I  want  to  tell 
her,  once  and  for  all "  He  checked  him 
self,  and  frowned  at  the  Doctor.  "You 
needn't  wait,"  he  said.  "And  Doctor,"  he 
added  meaningly,  "after  these  people  go, 
you  come  back." 

With  a  conscious  glance  at  the  Judge, 
Rainey  nodded  and  left  them. 

"No,"  continued  the  old  man,  "I  want  to 
talk  to  my  niece,  myself.  But  I  don't  want 
to  talk  to  Winthrop.  He's  too  clever  a 
young  man,  Winthrop.  In  the  merger  case, 
you  remember — had  me  on  the  stand  for 
three  hours.  Made  me  talk,  too."  The  mind 
29 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

of  the  old  man  suddenly  veered  at  a  tangent. 
"How  the  devil  can  Helen  retain  him?"  he 
demanded  peevishly.  "She  can't  retain  him. 
She  hasn't  any  money.  And  he's  District 
Attorney,  too.  It's  against  the  law.  Is  he 
doing  it  as  a  speculation?  Does  he  want  to 
marry  her?" 

Judge  Gaylor  laughed  soothingly. 

"Heavens,  no!"  he  said.  "She's  in  his 
office,  that's  all.  When  she  took  this  craze 
to  be  independent  of  you,  he  gave  her  a 
position  as  secretary,  or  as  stenographer,  or 
something.  She's  probably  told  him  her 
story,  her  side  of  it,  and  he's  helping  her  out 
of  charity."  The  Judge  smiled  tolerantly. 
"He  does  that  sort  of  thing,  I  believe." 

The  old  man  struck  the  library  table  with 
his  palm.  "I  wish  he'd  mind  his  own  busi 
ness,"  he  cried.  "It's  my  money.  She  has 
no  claim  to  it,  never  had  any  claim " 

The  Judge  interrupted  quickly. 

"That's  all  right,  Stephen,  that's  all 
30 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

right,"  he  said.  "Don't  excite  yourself. 
Just  get  what  you're  to  say  straight  in  your 
mind,  and  stick  to  it.  Remember,"  he  went 
on,  as  though  coaching  a  child  in  a  task  al 
ready  learned,  "there  never  was  a  written 
agreement." 

"No!"  muttered Hallowell.  "Never was!" 
"Repeat  this  to  yourself,"  commanded  the 
Judge.  "The  understanding  between  you 
and  your  brother-in-law  was  that  if  you 
placed  his  patent  on  the  market,  for  the  first 
five  years  you  would  share  the  profits  equally. 
After  the  five  years,  all  rights  in  the  patent 
became  yours.  It  was  unfortunate,"  com 
mented  the  Judge  dryly,  "that  your  brother- 
in-law  and  your  sister  died  before  the  five 
years  were  up,  especially  as  the  patent  did 
not  begin  to  make  money  until  after  five 
years.  Remember — until  after  five  years." 

"Until  after  five  years,"  echoed  Mr.  Hal 
lowell.    "It  was  over  six  years,"  he  went  on 
excitedly, ' '  before  it  made  a  cent.   And,  then, 
31 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

it  was  my  money,  and  anything  I  give  my 
niece  is  charity.  She's  not  entitled " 

Garrett  appeared  at  the  door.  "Miss 
Coates,"  he  announced,  "and  Mr.  Winthrop." 
Judge  Gaylor  raised  a  hand  for  silence,  and 
as  Mr.  Hallowell  sank  back  in  his  chair, 
Helen  Coates,  the  only  child  of  Catherine 
Coates,  his  sister,  and  the  young  District 
Attorney  of  New  York  came  into  the  library. 
Miss  Coates  was  a  woman  of  between  twenty- 
five  and  thirty,  capable,  and  self-reliant.  She 
had  a  certain  beauty  of  a  severe  type,  but  an 
harassed  expression  about  her  eyes  made  her 
appear  to  be  always  frowning.  At  times,  in 
a  hardening  of  the  lower  part  of  her  face,  she 
showed  a  likeness  to  her  uncle.  Like  him,  in 
speaking,  also,  her  manner  was  positive  and 
decided. 

In  age  the  young  man  who  accompanied 

her  was  ten  years  her  senior,  but  where  her 

difficulties  had  made  her  appear  older  than 

she  really  was,  the  enthusiasm  with  which  he 

32 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

had  thrown  himself  against  those  of  his  own 
life,  had  left  him  young. 

The  rise  of  Winthrop  had  been  swift  and 
spectacular.  Almost  as  soon  as  he  graduated 
from  the  college  in  the  little  " up-state"  town 
where  he  had  been  educated,  and  his  family 
had  always  lived,  he  became  the  prosecuting 
attorney  of  that  town,  and  later,  at  Albany, 
represented  the  district  in  the  Assembly. 
From  Albany  he  entered  a  law  office  in  New 
York  City;  and  in  the  cause  of  reform  had 
fought  so  many  good  fights  that  on  an  inde 
pendent  ticket,  much  to  his  surprise,  he  had 
been  lifted  to  the  high  position  he  now  held. 
No  more  in  his  manner  than  in  his  appear 
ance  did  Winthrop  suggest  the  popular  con 
ception  of  his  role.  He  was  not  professional, 
not  mysterious.  Instead,  he  was  sane,  cheer 
ful,  tolerant.  It  was  his  philosophy  to  be 
lieve  that  the  world  was  innocent,  until  it 
was  proved  guilty. 

He  was  a  bachelor,  and,  except  for  two 
33 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

sisters  who  had  married  men  of  prominence 
in  New  York,  and  who  moved  in  a  world  of 
fashion  into  which  he  had  not  penetrated, 
he  was  alone. 

When  the  visitors  entered,  Mr.  Hallowell, 
without  rising,  greeted  his  niece  cordially. 

"Ah,  Helen!  I  am  glad  to  see  you," 
he  called,  and  added  reproachfully,  "at 
last." 

"How  do  you  do,  sir,"  returned  Miss  Helen 
stiffly.  With  marked  disapproval  she  bowed 
to  Judge  Gaylor. 

"And  our  District  Attorney,"  cried  Mr. 
Hallowell.  "Pardon  my  not  rising,  won't 
you?  I  haven't  seen  you,  sir,  since  you  tried 
to  get  the  Grand  Jury  to  indict  me."  He 
chuckled  delightedly.  "You  didn't  suc 
ceed,"  he  taunted. 

Winthrop  shook  hands  with  him,  smiling. 
"Don't  blame  me,"  he  said,  "I  did  my  best. 
I'm  glad  to  see  you  in  such  good  spirits,  Mr. 

Hallowell.   I  feared,  by  the  Despatch " 

34 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"Lies,  lies,"  interrupted  Hallowell  curtly. 
"You  know  Judge  Gaylor?" 

As  he  shook  hands,  Winthrop  answered 
that  the  Judge  and  he  were  old  friends;  that 
they  knew  each  other  well. 

"Know  each  other  so  well!"  returned  the 
Judge,  "that  we  ought  to  be  old  enemies." 

The  younger  man  nodded  appreciatively. 

"That's  true!"  he  laughed,  "only  I  didn't 
think  you'd  admit  it." 

With  light  sarcasm  Mr.  Hallowell  inquired 
whether  Winthrop  was  with  them  in  his 
official  capacity. 

"Oh,  don't  suggest  that!"  begged  Win 
throp,  "you'll  be  having  me  indicted  next. 
No,  sir,  I  am  here  without  any  excuse  what 
soever.  I  am  just  interfering  as  a  friend  of 
this  young  lady." 

"Good,"  commented  Hallowell.  "I'd  be 
sorry  to  have  my  niece  array  counsel  against 
me — especially  such  distinguished  counsel. 
Sit  down,  Helen." 

35 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

Miss  Coates  balanced  herself  on  the  edge 
of  a  chair,  and  spoke  in  cool,  business-like 
tones.  "Mr.  Hallowell,"  she  began,  "I 
came " 

"Mr.  Hallowell?"  objected  her  uncle. 

"Uncle  Stephen,"  Miss  Coates  again  be 
gan,  "I  wish  to  be  as  brief  as  possible.  I 
asked  you  to  see  me  to-day,  because  I  hoped 
that  by  talking  things  over  we  might  avoid 
law  suits,  and  litigation " 

Mr.  Hallowell  nodded  his  approval. 
"Yes,"  he  said  encouragingly. 

"I  have  told  Mr.  Winthrop  what  the 
trouble  is,"  Miss  Coates  went  on,  "and  he 
agrees  with  me  that  I  have  been  very  un 
justly  treated " 

"By  whom?"  interrupted  Hallowell. 

"By  you,"  said  his  niece. 

"Wait,  Helen,"  commanded  the  old  man. 
"Have  you  also  told  Mr.  Winthrop,"  he  de 
manded,  "that  I  have  made  a  will  in  your 
favor?  That,  were  I  to  die  to-night,  you 
36 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

would  inherit  ten  millions  of  dollars?  Is  that 
the  injustice  of  which  you  complain?" 

Judge  Gaylor  gave  an  exclamation  of 
pleasure. 

"Good!"  he  applauded.    "Excellent!" 

Hallo  well  turned  indignantly  to  Winthrop. 
"And  did  she  tell  you,  also,"  he  demanded, 
"that  for  three  years  I  have  urged  her  to 
make  a  home  in  this  house?  That  I  have 
offered  her  an  income  as  large  as  I  would  give 
my  own  daughter,  and  that  she  has  refused 
both  offers.  And  what's  more, " — in  his  ex 
citement,  his  voice  rose  hysterically, — "by 
working  publicly  for  her  living  she  has  made 
me  appear  mean  and  uncharitable,  and " 

"That's  just  it,"  interrupted  Miss  Coates. 
"It  isn't  a  question  of  charity." 

"Will  you  allow  me?"  said  Winthrop 
soothingly.  "Your  niece  contends,  sir,"  he 
explained,  "that  this  money  you  offered  her 
is  not  yours  to  offer.  She  claims  it  belongs 
to  her.  That  it's  what  should  have  been  her 
37 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

father's  share  of  the  profits  on  the  Coates- 
Hallowell  coupling  pin.  But,  as  you  have 
willed  your  niece  so  much  money,  although 
half  of  it  is  hers  already,  I  advised  her  not  to 
fight.  Going  to  law  is  an  expensive  business." 

"But  she  has  found  out — and  that's  what 
brings  me  uptown  this  morning — that  you 
intend  to  make  a  new  will,  and  leave  all  her 
money  and  your  own  to  establish  the  Hallo- 
well  Institute.  Now,"  Winthrop  continued, 
with  a  propitiating  smile,  "Miss  Coates  also 
would  like  to  be  a  philanthropist,  in  her  own 
way,  with  her  own  money.  And  she  wishes 
to  warn  you  that,  unless  you  deliver  up  what 
is  due  her,  she  will  proceed  against  you." 

Judge  Gaylor  was  the  first  to  answer. 

"Mr.  Winthrop,"  he  said,  impressively, 
"I  give  you  my  word,  there  is  not  one  dollar 
due  Miss  Coates,  except  what  Mr.  Hallowell 
pleases  to  give  her 

Miss  Coates  contradicted  him  sharply. 
"That  is  not  so,"  she  said.  She  turned  to 
38 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

her  uncle.  "You  and  my  father,"  she  de 
clared,  "agreed  in  writing  you  would  share 
the  profits  always."  Mr.  Hallowell  looked 
from  his  niece  to  his  lawyer.  The  lawyer, 
eying  him  apprehensively,  nodded.  With 
the  patient  voice  of  one  who  tried  to  reason 
with  an  unreasonable  child,  Mr.  Hallowell 
began.  "Helen,"  he  said,  "I  have  told  you 
many  times  there  never  was  such  an  agree 
ment.  There  was  a  verbal " 

"And  I  repeat,  I  saw  it,"  said  Miss  Coates. 

"When?"  asked  Hallowell. 

"I  saw  it  first  when  I  was  fifteen,"  an 
swered  the  young  woman  steadily,  "and  two 
years  later,  before  mother  died,  she  showed 
it  to  me  again.  It  was  with  father's  papers." 

"Miss  Coates,"  asked  the  Judge,  "where 
is  this  agreement  now?" 

For  a  moment  Miss  Coates  hesitated.  Her 

dislike  for  Gaylor  was  so  evident,  that  to 

make  it  less  apparent,  she  lowered  her  eyes. 

"My  uncle  should  be  able  to  tell  you,"  she 

39 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

said,  evenly.  "He  was  my  father's  executor. 
But,  when  he  returned  my  father's  papers," 
she  paused ;  and  then,  although  her  voice  fell 
to  almost  a  whisper,  continued  defiantly, 
"the  agreement  was  not  with  them." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  To  assure 
himself  the  others  had  heard  as  he  did,  Mr. 
Hallowell  glanced  quickly  from  Winthrop  to 
Gaylor.  He  half  rose  from  his  chair,  and 
leaned  across  the  table. 

"What!  "he  demanded. 

His  niece  looked  at  him  steadily. 

"You  heard  what  I  said,"  she  answered. 

The  old  man  leaned  farther  forward. 

"So!"  he  cried,  "so!  I  am  not  only  doing 
you  an  injustice,  but,  I  am  a  thief!  Mr.  Win 
throp,"  he  cried,  appealingly,  "do  you  ap 
preciate  the  seriousness  of  this?" 

Winthrop  nodded  cheerfully.  "It's  cer 
tainly  pretty  serious,"  he  assented. 

"It  is  so  serious,"  cried  Mr.  Hallowell, 
"that  I  welcome  you  into  this  matter.  Now, 
40 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

we  will  settle  it  once  and  forever."  He  turned 
to  his  niece.  "I  have  tried  to  be  generous," 
he  cried,  "I  have  tried  to  be  kind,  and  you 
insult  me  in  my  own  house."  He  pressed  the 
button  that  summoned  the  butler  from  the 
floor  below.  "  Gentlemen,  this  interview  is 
at  an  end.  From  now  on,  this  matter  is  in 
the  hands  of  my  lawyer.  We  will  settle  this 
in  the  courts." 

With  an  exclamation  of  pleasure  that  was 
an  acceptance  of  his  challenge,  Miss  Coates 
rose. 

"That  is  satisfactory  to  me,"  she  said. 
Winthrop  turned  to  Mr.  Hallo  well. 

"  Could  I  have  a  few  minutes'  talk  with 
Judge  Gaylor  now?"  he  asked.  "Not  as 
anybody's  counsel;"  he  explained,  "just  as 
an  old  'enemy'  of  his?" 

"Well,  not  here,"  protested  the  old  man 

querulously.      "I'm — I'm    expecting    some 

friends  here.    Judge,  take  Mr.  Winthrop  to 

the  drawing-room  downstairs."    He  turned 

41 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

to  Garrett,  who  had  appeared  in  answer  to  his 
summons,  and  told  him  to  bring  Dr.  Rainey 
to  the  library.  The  butler  left  the  room,  and 
as  Gaylor  and  Winthrop  followed,  the  latter 
asked  Miss  Coates  if  he  might  expect  to  see 
her  at  the  " Office."  She  told  him  that  she 
was  now  on  her  way  there.  Without  ac 
knowledging  the  presence  of  her  uncle,  she 
had  started  to  follow  the  others,  when  Mr. 
Hallowell  stopped  her. 

After  they  were  alone,  for  a  moment  he 
sat  staring  at  her,  his  eyes  filled  with  dislike 
and  with  a  suggestion  of  childish  spite.  "I 
might  as  well  tell  you,"  he  began,  "that 
after  what  you  said  this  morning,  I  will  never 
give  you  a  single  dollar  of  my  money." 

The  tone  in  which  his  niece  replied  to  him 
was  no  more  conciliatory  than  his  own. 
"You  cannot  give  it  to  me,"  she  answered, 
"because  it  is  not  yours  to  give."  As  though 
to  add  impressiveness  to  what  she  was  about 
to  say,  or  to  prevent  his  interrupting  her,  she 
42 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

raised  her  hand.  So  interested  in  each  other 
were  the  old  man  and  the  girl  that  neither 
noticed  the  appearance  in  the  door  of  Dr. 
Rainey  and  the  butler,  who  halted,  hesitat 
ing,  waiting  permission  to  enter. 

"That  money  belongs  to  me,"  said  Miss 
Coates  slowly,  "and  as  sure  as  my  mother  is 
in  Heaven  and  her  spirit  is  guiding  me,  that 
money  will  be  given  me." 

In  the  pause  that  followed,  a  swift  and 
singular  change  came  over  the  face  of  Mr. 
Hallo  well.  He  stared  at  his  niece  as  though 
fascinated.  His  lower  lip  dropped  in  awe. 
The  look  of  hostility  gave  way  to  one  of  in 
tense  interest.  His  voice  was  hardly  louder 
than  a  whisper. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  demanded. 

The  girl  looked  at  him  uncomprehending. 
"What  do  I  mean?"  she  repeated. 

"When  you  said,"  he  stammered  eagerly, 
"that  the  spirit  of  your  mother  was  guiding 
you,  what  did  you  mean?" 
43 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

In  the  doorway,  Rainey  and  the  butler 
started.  Each  threw  at  the  other  a  quick 
glance  of  concern. 

"Why,"  exclaimed  the  girl  impatiently, 
"her  influence,  her  example,  what  she  taught 
me." 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  the  old  man — he  leaned 
back  with  an  air  almost  of  disappointment. 

"When  she  was  alive?"  he  said. 

"Of  course,"  answered  the  girl. 

"Of  course,"  repeated  the  uncle.  "I 
thought  you  meant — "  He  looked  sus 
piciously  at  her  and  shook  his  head.  "Never 
mind,"  he  added.  "Well,"  he  went  on, 
cynically,  striving  to  cover  up  the  embar 
rassment  of  the  moment,  "your  mother's 
spirit  will  probably  feel  as  deep  an  interest 
in  her  brother  as  in  her  daughter.  We  shall 
see,  we  shall  see  which  of  us  two  she  is  going 
to  help."  He  turned  to  Garrett  and  Rainey 
in  the  hall.  "Take  my  niece  to  the  door, 
Garrett,"  he  directed. 
44 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

As  soon  as  Miss  Coates  had  disappeared, 
Hallowell  turned  to  Rainey,  his  face  lit  with 
pleased  and  childish  anticipation. 

"Well,"  he  whispered  eagerly,  "is  she 
here?" 

Rainey  nodded  and  glanced  in  the  direction 
opposite  to  the  one  Miss  Coates  had  taken. 
"She's  been  waiting  half  an  hour.  And  the 
Professor,  too." 

"Bring  them  at  once,"  commanded  Mr. 
Hallowell  excitedly.  "And  then  shut  the 
door — and — and  tell  the  Judge  I  can't  see 
him — tell  him  I'm  too  tired  to  see  him. 
Understand?" 

Rainey  peered  cautiously  over  the  railing 
of  the  stairs  to  the  first  floor,  and  then  beck 
oned  to  some  one  who  apparently  was  waiting 
at  the  end  of  the  hall. 

"Miss  Vera,  sir,"  he  announced.  "And 
Professor  Vance." 

Although  but  lately  established  in  New 
York,  the  persons  Dr.  Rainey  introduced 
45 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

had  already  made  themselves  comparatively 
well  known.  For  the  last  six  weeks  as ' '  head- 
liners"  at  one  of  the  vaudeville  theatres,  and 
as  entertainers  at  private  houses,  under  the 
firm  name  of  "The  Vances,"  they  had  been 
giving  an  exhibition  of  code  and  cipher  sig 
nalling.  They  called  it  mind-reading.  Dur 
ing  the  day  at  the  house  of  Vance  and  his 
wife,  the  girl,  as  "Vera,  the  Medium,"  fur 
nished  to  all  comers  memories  of  the  past  or 
news  of  the  future.  In  their  profession,  in 
all  of  its  branches,  the  man  and  the  girl  were 
past  masters.  They  knew  it  from  the  A,  B,  C 
of  the  dream  book  to  the  post-graduate  work 
of  projecting  from  a  cabinet  the  spirits  of  the 
dead.  As  the  occasion  offered  and  paid  best, 
they  were  mind-readers,  clairvoyants,  ma 
terializing  mediums,  test  mediums.  From 
them,  a  pack  of  cards,  a  crystal  globe,  the 
lines  of  the  human  hand,  held  no  secrets. 
They  found  lost  articles,  cast  horoscopes, 
gave  advice  in  affairs  of  the  heart,  of  busi- 
46 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

ness  and  speculation,  uttered  warnings  of 
journeys  over  seas,  and  against  a  smooth- 
shaven  stranger.  They  even  stooped  to 
foretell  earthquakes,  or  caused  to  drop  flut 
tering  from  the  ceiling  a  letter  straight  from 
the  Himalayas.  Among  those  who  are  the 
gypsies  of  the  cities,  they  were  the  aristocrats 
of  their  calling ;  and  to  them  that  calling  was 
as  legitimate  a  business  as  is,  to  the  roadside 
gypsy,  the  swapping  of  horses.  The  fore- 
parents  of  each  had  followed  that  same  call 
ing,  and  to  the  children  it  was  commonplace 
and  matter-of-fact.  It  held  no  adventure, 
no  moral  obloquy. 

"Prof."  Paul  Vance  was  a  young  man  of 
under  forty  years.  He  looked  like  a  fox.  He 
had  red  eyes,  alert  and  cunning,  a  long,  sharp- 
pointed  nose,  a  pointed  red  beard,  and  red 
eyebrows  that  slanted  upward.  His  hair, 
standing  erect  in  a  pompadour,  and  his  up 
lifted  eyebrows,  gave  him  the  watchful  look 
of  the  fox  when  he  hears  suddenly  the  hound 
47 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

baying  in  pursuit.  But  no  one  had  ever  suc 
cessfully  pursued  Vance.  No  one  had  ever 
driven  him  into  a  corner  from  which,  either 
pleasantly,  or  with  raging  indignation,  he  was 
not  able  to  free  himself.  Seven  years  before 
he  had  disloyally  married  out  of  the  "pro 
fession"  and  for  no  other  reason  than  that  he 
was  in  love  with  the  woman  he  married.  She 
had  come  to  seek  advice  from  the  spirit-world 
in  regard  to  taking  a  second  husband.  After 
several  visits,  the  spirit-world  had  advised 
Vance  to  advise  her  to  marry  Vance. 

She  did  so,  and  though  the  man  was  still  in 
love  with  his  wife,  he  had  not  found  her,  in 
his  work,  the  assistance  he  had  hoped  she 
might  be.  She  still  was  a  " believer";  in  the 
technical  vernacular  of  her  husband,  "a 
dope."  Not  even  the  intimate  knowledge 
she  had  gained  behind  the  scenes  could  per 
suade  her  that  Paul,  her  husband,  was  not  in 
constant  communication  with  the  spirit- 
world,  or  that,  if  he  wished,  he  could  not  read 
48 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

the  thoughts  that  moved  slowly  through  her 
pretty  head. 

At  the  time  of  his  marriage,  the  girl  Vera, 
then  a  child  of  fourteen,  had  written  to  Vance 
for  help.  She  was  ill,  without  money,  and 
asked  for  work.  To  him  she  was  known  as 
the  last  of  a  long  line  of  people  who  had 
always  been  professional  mediums  and  spir 
itualists;  and,  out  of  charity,  and  from  a 
sense  of  noblesse  oblige  to  one  of  the  elect  of 
the  profession,  Vance  had  made  her  his  as 
sistant.  He  had  never  regretted  having  done 
so.  The  bread  cast  upon  the  waters  was  re 
turned  a  thousandfold.  From  the  first,  the 
girl  brought  in  money.  And  his  wife,  the 
older  of  the  two,  had  welcomed  her  as  a  com 
panion.  After  a  fashion  the  Vances  had 
adopted  her.  In  the  advertisements  she  was 
described  as  their  "ward." 

Vera  now  was  twenty-one,  tall,  wonderfully 
graceful  and  of  the  most  enchanting  loveli 
ness.  Her  education  had  been  cosmopolitan. 
49 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

In  the  largest  cities  of  America  she  had  met 
persons  of  every  class;  young  women,  old 
women,  mothers  with  married  sons  and 
daughters,  women  of  society  as  it  is  exploited 
in  the  Sunday  supplements;  school-girls, 
shop-girls,  factory-girls — all  had  told  her  their 
troubles;  and  men  of  every  condition,  had 
come  to  scoff  and  had  remained  to  express, 
more  or  less  offensively,  their  admiration. 
Some  of  the  younger  of  these,  after  a  first 
visit,  returned  the  day  following  and  each 
begged  the  beautiful  priestess  of  the  occult  to 
fly  with  him,  to  live  with  him,  to  marry  him. 
When  this  happened  Vera  would  touch  a  but 
ton,  and  "Mannie"  Day,  who  admitted  visi 
tors,  and  later,  in  the  hall,  searched  their 
hats  and  umbrellas  for  initials,  came  on  the 
run  and  threw  the  infatuated  one  out  upon 
a  cold  and  unfeeling  sidewalk. 

So  Vera  had  seen  both  the  seamy  side  of 
life,  and,  in  the  drawing-rooms  where  Vance 
and  she  exhibited  their  mind-reading  tricks, 
50 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

had  been  made  much  of  by  great  ladies  and, 
for  an  hour  as  brief  as  Cinderella's,  had 
looked  upon  a  world  of  kind  and  well-bred 
people.  Since  she  was  fourteen,  for  seven 
years,  this  had  been  her  life.  A  life  as  open 
to  the  public  as  the  life  of  an  actress,  as  easy 
of  access  as  that  of  the  stenographer  in  the 
hotel  lobby.  As  a  result,  the  girl  had  encased 
herself  in  a  defensive  armor  of  hardness  and 
distrust,  a  protection  which  was  rendered 
futile  by  the  loveliness  of  her  face,  by  the 
softness  of  her  voice,  by  the  deep,  brood 
ing  eyes,  and  the  fine  forehead  on  which, 
like  a  crown,  rested  the  black  waves  of  her 
hair. 

In  her  work  Vera  accepted,  without  ques 
tion,  the  parts  to  which  Vance  assigned  her. 
When  in  their  mummeries  they  were  success 
ful,  she  neither  enjoyed  the  credulity  of  those 
they  had  tricked,  nor  was  sobered  with  re 
morse.  In  the  world  Vance  found  a  certain 
number  of  people  with  money  who  de- 
51 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

manded  to  be  fooled.  It  was  his  business 
and  hers  to  meet  that  demand.  If  ever  the 
conscience  of  either  stirred  restlessly,  Vance 
soothed  it  by  the  easy  answer  that  if  they 
did  not  take  the  money  some  one  else  would. 
It  was  all  in  the  day's  work.  It  was  her  pro 
fession. 

As  she  entered  the  library  of  Mr.  Hallo- 
well,  which,  with  Vance,  she  already  had 
visited  several  times,  she  looked  like  a  child 
masquerading  in  her  mother's  finery.  She 
suggested  an  ingenue  who  had  been  suddenly 
sent  on  in  the  role  of  the  Russian  adventur 
ess.  Her  slight  girl's  figure  was  draped  in 
black  lace.  Her  face  was  shaded  by  a  large 
picture-hat,  heavy  with  drooping  ostrich 
feathers;  around  her  shoulders  was  a  neck 
lace  of  jade,  and  on  her  wrists  many  bracelets 
of  silver  gilt.  When  she  moved,  they  rattled. 
As  the  girl  advanced,  smiling,  to  greet  Mr. 
Hallowell,  she  suddenly  stopped,  shivered 
slightly  and  threw  her  right  arm  across  her 
52 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

eyes.  Her  left  arm  she  stretched  out  over 
the  table. 

"Give  me  your  hand!"  she  commanded. 
Dubiously,  with  a  watchful  glance  at  Vance, 
Mr.  Hallowell  leaned  forward  and  took  her 
hand. 

"You  have  been  ill,"  cried  the  girl;  "very 
ill — I  see  you — I  see  you  in  a  kind  of  faint 
— very  lately."  Her  voice  rose  excitedly. 
"Yes,  last  night." 

Mr.  Hallowell  protested  with  indignation. 
"You  read  that  in  the  morning  paper,"  he 
said. 

Vera  lowered  her  arm  from  her  eyes  and 
turned  them  reproachfully  on  him. 

"I  don't  read  the  Despatch,"  she  answered. 

Mr.  Hallowell  drew  back  suspiciously.  "I 
didn't  say  it  was  the  Despatch,"  he  returned. 

Vance  quickly  interposed.     "You  don't 

have  to  say  it,"  he  explained  with  glibness; 

"you   thought   it.     And   Vera   read   your 

thoughts.   You  were  thinking  of  the  Despatch, 

53 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

weren't  you?     Well,  there  you  are!     It's 
wonderful!" 

" Wonderful?  Nonsense!"  mocked  Mr. 
Hallowell.  "She  did  read  it  in  the  paper  or 
Rainey  told  her." 

The  girl  shrugged  her  shoulders  patiently. 
"If  you  would  rather  find  out  you  were  ill 
from  the  newspapers  than  from  the  spirit- 
world,"  she  enquired,  "why  do  you  ask  me 
here?" 

"I  ask  you  here,  young  woman,"  ex 
claimed  Hallowell,  sinking  back  in  his  chair, 
"because  I  hoped  you  would  tell  me  some 
thing  I  can't  learn  from  the  newspapers. 
But  you  haven't  been  able  to  do  it  yet.  My 
dear  young  lady,"  exclaimed  the  old  man 
wistfully,  "I  want  to  believe,  but  I  must  be 
convinced.  No  tricks  with  me!  I  can  ex 
plain  how  you  might  have  found  out  every 
thing  you  have  told  me.  Give  me  a  sign!" 
He  beat  the  flat  of  his  hand  upon  the  table, 
"Show  me  something  I  can't  explain!" 
54 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"Mr.  Hallowell  is  quite  right,  Vera,"  said 
Vance.  "He  is  entering  what  is  to  him  a  new 
world,  full  of  mysteries,  and  that  caution 
which,  in  this  world,  has  made  him  so  suc 
cessful " 

With  an  exclamation,  Hallowell  cut  short 
the  patter  of  the  showman. 

"Yes,  yes,"  he  interrupted,  petulantly; 
"I  tell  you,  I  want  to  believe.  Convince 
me." 

Considering  the  situation  with  pursed  lips 
and  thoughtful  eyes,  Vera  gazed  at  the  old 
man,  frowning.  Finally  she  asked,  "Have 
you  witnessed  our  demonstrations  of  mind- 
reading?" 

Mr.  Hallowell  snorted,  "Certainly  not," 
he  replied;  "it's  a  trick!" 

"A  tric]k!"  cried  the  girl,  indignantly,  "to 
read  a  man's  mind — to  see  right  through 
your  forehead,  through  your  skull,  into  your 
brain?  Is  that  a  trick?  "  She  turned  sharply 
to  Vance,  "Show  him!"  she  commanded, 
55 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"show  him!"  She  crossed  rapidly  to  the 
window  and  stood  looking  down  into  the 
street,  with  her  back  to  the  room. 

Vance,  with  his  back  turned  to  Vera,  stood 
close  to  the  table,  on  the  other  side  of  which 
Hallowell  was  reclining  in  his  arm-chair. 
Vance  picked  up  a  pen-holder. 

"Think  of  what  I  have  in  my  hand, 
please,"  he  said.  "What  is  this,  Vera?"  he 
asked.  The  girl,  gazing  from  the  window  at 
the  traffic  in  the  avenue  below  her,  answered 
with  indifference,  "A  pen-holder." 

"Yes,  what  about  it?"  snapped  Vance. 

"Gold  pen-holder,"  Vera  answered  more 
rapidly.  "Much  engraving — initials  S.  H. — 
Mr.  HallowelPs  initials ' 

"There  is  a  date,  too — can  you " 

"December — "  Vera  hesitated. 

"Go  on,"  commanded  Vance. 

"Twenty-five,  one,  eight,  eight,  six;   one 
thousand   eight   hundred   and    eighty-six." 
She  moved  her  shoulders  impatiently. 
56 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"Oh,  tell  him  to  think  of  something  diffi 
cult,"  she  said. 

From  behind  Mr.  HallowelPs  chair  Rainey 
signalled  to  Vance  to  take  from  the  table  a 
photograph  frame  of  silver,  which  held  the 
picture  of  a  woman. 

Vance  picked  it  up,  holding  it  close  to  him. 

"What  have  I  here,  Vera?"  he  asked. 

Hallowell,  seeing  what  Vance  held  in  his 
hand,  leaned  forward.  "Put  that  down!" 
he  commanded.  But  Vera  had  already 
begun  to  answer. 

"A  picture,  a  picture  of  a  young  woman. 
Ask  him  to  think  of  who  it  is,  and  I  will  tell 
him." 

At  the  words  Mr.  Hallowell  hesitated, 
frowned,  and  then  nodded. 

"It  is  his  sister,"  called  Vera.  "Her  name 
was — I  seem  to  get  a  'Catherine';  yes,  that's 
it,  Catherine  Coates.  She  is  no  longer  with 
us.  She  passed  into  the  spirit-world  three 
years  ago."  The  girl  turned  suddenly  and 
57 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

approached  the  table,  holding  her  head  high, 
as  though  offended.  "How  do  you  explain 
that  trick?"  she  demanded. 

Mr.  Hallowell  moved  uneasily  in  his 
chair.  "Oh,  the  picture's  been  on  my  desk 
each  time  you've  been  here,"  he  answered 
dubiously.  "Rainey  could  have  told  you." 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  didn't,"  said  Rainey. 

HallowelFs  eyes  lightened  with  interest. 
"Didn't  you?"  he  asked.  He  turned  to 
Vera.  "If  you  can  read  my  mind,"  he  chal 
lenged — "you,"  he  added,  pointing  at  Vance, 
"keep  out  of  this,  now — tell  me  of  what  I 
am  thinking."  As  Vance  drew  back,  Rainey 
and  himself  exchanged  a  quick  glance  of  ap 
prehension,  but  the  girl  promptly  closed  her 
eyes,  and  at  once,  in  a  dull,  measured  tone, 
began  to  speak. 

"You  were  thinking  you  would  like  to  ask 
a  question  of  some  one  in  the  spirit,"  she  re 
cited.  "But  you  are  afraid.  You  do  not 
trust  me.  You  will  wait  until  I  give  you  a 
58 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

sign,  then  you  will  ask  that  question  of  some 
one  dear  to  you,  who  has  passed  beyond,  and 
she  will  answer,  and  your  troubles  will  be  at 
an  end."  She  opened  her  eyes  and  stared  at 
Mr.  Hallowell  like  one  coming  out  of  a 
dream.  "What  did  I  say?"  she  asked. 
"Was  I  right?" 

Hallowell  sank  back  in  his  chair,  shaking 
his  head. 

"Yes,"  he  began  grudgingly,  "but " 

With  an  eagerness  hardly  concealed  Vance 
interrupted. 

"What  is  the  question  you  wish  to  ask?" 
he  begged. 

With  a  frown  of  suspicion,  Hallowell 
turned  from  him  to  Rainey. 

"I  don't  think  I  ought  to  let  them  know," 
he  questioned,  "do  you?"  But  his  attention 
was  sharply  diverted. 

Vera,  in  a  hushed  and  solemn  voice,  called 
for  silence. 

"My  control,"  she  explained,  her  tone 
59 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

was  deep  and  awestruck,  "is  trying  to  com 
municate  with  me." 

Vance  gave  an  exclamation  of  concern. 
The  prospect  of  the  phenomena  Vera  prom 
ised  seemed  to  fill  him  with  delightful  ex 
pectations.  "Be  very  quiet,"  he  cautioned, 
"do  not  disturb  her." 

Deeply  impressed,  Mr.  Hallowell  strug 
gled  from  his  chair.  Unaided,  he  moved  to 
below  the  table  and  leaning  against  it  looked, 
with  unwilling  but  fascinated  interest,  at 
Vera's  uplifted  face. 

"Some  one  in  the  spirit,"  Vera  chanted, 
in  an  unemotional,  drugged  voice,  "wishes  to 
speak  to  Mr.  Hallowell.  Give  me  your 
hand." 

"Quick!"  directed  Vance,  "give  her  your 
hand.  Take  her  hand." 

"Yes,  he  is  here,"  Vera  continued.    "A 

woman  has  a  message  for  you,  she  is  standing 

close  beside  you.     She  is  holding  out  her 

arms.    And  she  is  trying,  so  hard,  to  tell  you 

60 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

something.  What  is  it?  "  the  girl  questioned. 
"Oh,  what  is  it?  Tell  me,"  she  begged. 
1  'Can't  you  teU  me?" 

Hallowell  eyed  her  greedily,  waiting  al 
most  without  breathing,  for  her  words.  The 
hand  with  which  he  held  hers  crushed  her 
rings  into  her  fingers. 

"What  sort?" — whispered  the  old  man — 
"What  sort  of  a  woman?" 

With  eyes  still  closed,  swaying  slightly  and 
with  abrupt  shudders  running  down  hei 
body,  the  girl  continued  in  dull,  fateful  tones. 

"She  is  a  fair  woman;  about  forty-five. 
She  is  speaking.  She  calls  to  you,  'Brother, 
Brother.'"  Vera's  voice  rose  excitedly. 
"It  is  the  woman  in  the  picture;  your  sister! 
Catherine!  I  see  it  written  above  her  head, 
Catherine.  In  letters  of  light."  She  turned 
suddenly  and  fiercely.  "Ask  her  your  ques 
tion!"  she  commanded.  "Ask  her  your 
question,  now!" 

By  the  sudden  swaying  forward  of  Vance 
61 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

and  Rainey,  in  the  intent  look  in  their  eyes, 
it  was  evident  that  a  crisis  had  approached. 
But  Mr.  Hallowell,  terrified  and  trembling, 
shrank  back.  His  voice  broke,  hysterically. 
"No,  no!"  he  pleaded.  Both  anger  and  dis 
appointment  showed  in  the  face  of  Vance 
and  Rainey;  but  the  girl,  as  though  detached 
from  any  human  concerns,  continued  un 
moved.  "I  see  another  figure,"  she  recited. 
"A  young  girl,  but  she  is  of  this  world.  I 
seem  to  get  an  H.  Yes.  Helen,  in  letters  of 
fire." 

"My  niece,  Helen!"  Hallowell  whispered 
hoarsely. 

"Yes,  your  niece,"  chanted  the  girl.  Her 
voice  rose  and  thrilled.  "And  I  see  much 
gold,"  she  cried.  "Between  the  two  women, 
heaps  of  gold.  Everywhere  I  look,  I  see  gold. 
And,  now,  the  other  woman,  your  sister,  is 
trying  to  speak  to  you.  Listen!  She  calls  to 
you,  'Brother!'" 

So  centred  was  the  interest  of  those  in  the 
62 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

room,  so  compelling  the  sound  of  the  girl's 
voice,  that,  unnoticed,  the  sliding  doors  to 
the  library  were  slipped  apart.  Unobserved, 
Judge  Gayldr  and  Winthrop  halted  in  the 
doorway.  To  the  Judge,  the  meaning  of 
the  scene  was  instantly  apparent.  His 
face  flushed  furiously.  Winthrop,  uncom 
prehending,  gazed  unconcerned  over  Gaylor's 
shoulder.  The  voice  of  Vera  rose  hysterically 
to  her  climax. 

"She  bids  me  tell  you,"  Vera  cried,  "'Tell 
my  brother '" 

Gaylor  swept  toward  her. 

"What  damned  farce  is  this?"  he  shouted. 

The  effect  of  the  interruption  was  instant 
and  startling.  Mr.  Hallowell,  who,  in  the 
last  few  minutes,  had  believed  he  was  listen 
ing  to  a  voice  from  the  dead,  collapsed  upon 
the  shoulder  of  Rainey,  who  sprang  to  sup 
port  him.  Like  a  somnambulist  wrenched 
from  sleep,  Vera  gave  a  scream  of  fright,  half 
genuine,  half  assumed,  and  swayed  as  though 
63 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

about  to  fall.  Vance  caught  her  in  his  arms. 
He  turned  on  Gaylor,  his  cunning  red  eyes 
flashing  evilly. 

"You  brute!"  he  cried,  "you  might  have 
killed  her." 

Between  her  sobs,  Vera,  her  head  upon  the 
shoulder  of  Vance,  whispered  a  question.  As 
quickly,  under  cover  of  muttered  sympathy, 
Vance  answered.  "Gaylor.  The  Judge." 

Still  slightly  swaying,  Vera  stood  upright. 
She  passed  her  hand  vaguely  before  her  eyes. 
"Where  am  I?"  she  asked  feebly.  "Where 
ami?" 

Gaylor  shook  his  fist  at  the  girl. 

"You  know  where  you  are!"  he  thun 
dered;  "and  you  know  where  you're  going 
— you're  going  to  jail!" 

In  the  hush  that  followed,  Vera  drew  her 
self  to  her  full  height.  She  regarded  Gaylor 
wonderingly,  haughtily,  as  though  he  were 
some  drunken  intruder  from  the  street. 

"Are  you  speaking  to  me?"  she  asked. 
64 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"Yes,  to  you,"  shouted  the  lawyer. 
"You're  an  impostor,  and  a  swindler,  and — 
and " 

Winthrop  pushed  between  them. 

"Yes,  and  she's  a  woman,"  he  said,  briskly; 
"if  you  want  a  row,  talk  to  the  man." 

To  this  point,  the  scene  had  brought  to 
Vera  no  emotion  save  the  excitement  that  is 
felt  by  the  one  who  is  struggling  to  escape. 
The  appearance  of  a  champion  added  a  new 
interest.  Through  no  fault  of  her  own,  she 
had  learned  by  experience  that  to  the  one 
man  who  annoyed  her  there  always  were  six 
to  spring  to  her  protection.  So  the  glance 
she  covertly  turned  upon  Winthrop  was  one 
less  of  gratitude  than  of  curiosity. 

But  at  the  first  sight  of  him  the  girl  started, 
her  eyes  lit  with  recognition,  her  face  flushed. 
And  then,  although  the  man  was  in  no 
way  regarding  her,  her  eyes  filled,  and  in 
mortification  and  dismay  she  blushed  crim 
son. 

65 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

His  anger,  still  unsatisfied,  Gaylor  turned 
upon  Vance. 

"And  you,"  he  cried,  "you're  going  to 
jail,  too.  I'll  drive " 

The  voice  of  Mr.  Hallowell,  shaken  with 
pain  and  distress,  rose  feebly,  beseechingly. 
"Henry!"  he  begged,  "I  can't  stand  it!" 

"Judge  Gaylor!"  thundered  Rainey,  "I 
won't  be  responsible  if  you  keep  this  up." 

With  an  exclamation  of  remorse,  Vera  ran 
to  the  side  of  the  old  man.  With  Rainey  on 
his  other  hand,  she  raised  him  upright  upon 
his  feet. 

"Lean  on  me,"  begged  the  girl  breath 
lessly.  "I'm  very  strong.  Lean  on  me." 

Mr.  Hallowell  shook  his  head.  ' '  No,  child," 
he  protested,  "not  you."  He  turned  to  his 
old  friend.  "You  help  me,  Henry,"  he 
begged. 

With  the  authority  of  the  medical  man, 
Rainey  waved  Vance  into  the  bed-room. 
"Close  those  windows,"  he  ordered.  "You 
66 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

help  me!"  he  commanded  of  Gaylor.  "Put 
your  arm  under  him." 

Mr.  Hallowell,  protesting  feebly  and  lean 
ing  heavily  upon  the  two  men,  stumbled 
into  the  bedroom,  and  the  door  was  shut 
behind  him. 

For  a  moment  the  girl  and  the  man  stood 
in  silence;  and  then,  as  though  suddenly 
conscious  of  her  presence,  Winthrop  turned 
and  smiled. 

The  girl  did  not  answer  his  smile.  From 
under  the  shadow  of  the  picture-hat  and 
the  ostrich  feathers  her  eyes  regarded  him 
searchingly,  watchfully. 

For  the  first  time,  Winthrop  had  the 
chance  to  observe  her.  He  saw  that  she 
was  very  young,  that  her  clothes  cruelly  dis 
guised  her,  that  she  was  only  a  child  mas 
querading  as  a  brigand,  that  her  face  was 
distractingly  lovely.  Having  noted  this,  the 
fact  that  she  had  driven  several  grown  men 
to  abuse  and  vituperation  struck  him  as 
67 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

being  extremely  humorous;  nor  did  he  try 
to  conceal  his  amusement.  But  the  watch 
fulness  in  the  eyes  of  the  girl  did  not  relax. 

"Fm  afraid  I  interfered  with  your  seance," 
said  the  District  Attorney. 

The  girl  regarded  him  warily,  like  a  fencer 
fixing  her  eyes  on  those  of  her  opponent. 
There  was  a  p^use  which  lasted  so  long  that 
had  the  silence  continued  it  would  have  been 
rude.  "Well,"  the  girl  returned  at  last, 
timidly,  "that's  what  the  city  expects  you 
to  do,  is  it  not?" 

Winthrop  laughed.  "How  did  you  know 
who  I  was?"  he  asked,  and  then  added 
quickly,  "Of  course,  you're  a  mind-reader." 

For  the  first  time  the  girl  smiled.  Win 
throp  found  it  a  charming  smile,  wistful  and 
confiding. 

"I  don't  have  to  ask  the  spirit-world," 
she  said,  "to  tell  me  who  is  District  Attorney 
of  New  York." 

"Yes,"  said  the  District  Attorney;  "yes, 
68 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

I  suppose  you  have  to  be  pretty  well  ac 
quainted  with  some  of  the  laws — those  about 
mediums?" 

"If  you  knew  as  much  about  other  laws," 

began  Vera,  "as  I  do  about  the  law " 

she  broke  off,  and  again  smiled  upon  him. 

"Then  you  probably  know,"  said  Win- 
throp,  "that  what  our  excited  friend  said  to 
you  just  now  is  legally  quite  true?" 

The  smile  passed  from  the  face  of  the 
girl.  She  looked  at  the  young  man  with  fine 
disdain,  as  a  great  lady  might  reprove  with 
a  glance  the  man  who  snapped  a  camera 
at  her. 

"Yes?"  she  asked.  "Well,  what  are  you 
going  to  do  about  it — arrest  me?"  Mock 
ing  him,  in  a  burlesque  of  melodrama,  she 
held  out  her  arms.  "Don't  put  the  hand 
cuffs  on  me,"  she  begged. 

Winthrop  found  her  impudence  amusing; 
and,  with  the  charm  of  her  novelty,  he 
was  conscious  of  a  growing  conviction  that, 
69 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

somewhere,  they  had  met  before;  that  al 
ready  at  a  crisis  she  had  come  into  his 
life. 

"I  won't  arrest  you,"  he  said,  with  a  puz 
zled  smile,  "on  one  condition." 

"Ah!"  mocked  Vera;  "he  is  generous." 

"And  the  condition  is,"  Winthrop  went 
on  seriously,  "that  you  tell  me  where  we 
met  before?" 

The  girl's  expression  became  instantly 
mask-like.  To  learn  if  he  suspected  where 
it  was  that  they  had  met,  she  searched  his 
face  quickly.  She  was  reassured  that  of  the 
event  he  had  no  real  recollection. 

"That's  rather  difficult,  isn't  it,"  she  con 
tinued  lightly,  "when  you  consider  I've 
been  giving  exhibitions  of  mind-readings  for 
the  last  six  weeks  on  Broadway,  and  in  the 
homes  of  people  you  probably  know?" 

"No,"  Winthrop  exclaimed  eagerly,  "it 
wasn't  in  a  theatre,  and  it  wasn't  in  a  private 
house.  It  was — "  he  shook  his  head  help- 
70 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

lessly,  and  looked  at  her  for  assistance. 
"You  don't  know,  do  you?" 

The  girl  regarded  him  steadily.  "How 
should  I?"  she  said.  And  then,  as  though 
decided  upon  a  course  of  action  of  the  wis 
dom  of  which  she  was  uncertain,  she  laughed 
uneasily. 

"But  the  spirits  would  know,"  she  said. 
"I  might  ask  them." 

"Do!"  cried  Winthrop, delightedly.  "How 
much  would  that  be?" 

As  though  to  reprove  his  flippancy,  the 
girl  frowned.  With  a  nervous  tremor,  which 
this  time  seemed  genuine  enough,  she  threw 
back  her  head,  closed  her  eyes,  and  laid  her 
arm  across  her  forehead. 

Winthrop,  unobserved,  watched  her  with 
a  smile,  partly  of  amusement,  partly  on  ac 
count  of  her  beauty,  of  admiration. 

"I  see — a  court-room,"  said  the  girl.  "It 
is  very  mean  and  bare.  It  is  somewhere  up 
the  State;  in  a  small  town.  Outside,  there 
71 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

are  trees,  and  the  sun  is  shining,  and  people 
are  walking  in  a  public  park.  Inside,  in  the 
prisoner's  dock,  there  is  a  girl.  She  has  been 
arrested — for  theft.  She  has  pleaded '  guilty.' 
And  I  see — that  she  has  been  very  ill — that 
she  is  faint  from  shame — and  fear — and  lack 
of  food.  And  there  is  a  young  lawyer.  He 
is  defending  her;  he  is  asking  the  judge  to  be 
merciful,  because  this  is  her  first  offence, 
because  she  stole  the  cloak  to  get  money  to 
take  her  where  she  had  been  promised  work. 
Because  this  is  his  first  case. 

Winthrop  gave  a  gasp  of  disbelief. 

"You  don't  mean  to  tell  me — "  he  cried. 

"Hush!"  commanded  the  girl.  "And  he 
persuades  the  Judge  to  let  her  go,"  she  con 
tinued  quickly,  her  voice  shaking,  "and  he 
and  the  girl  walk  out  of  the  court-house  to 
gether.  And  he  talks  to  her  kindly,  and 
gives  her  money  to  pay  her  way  to  the  people 
who  have  promised  her  work." 

Vera  dropped  her  arm  and,  stepping  back, 
72 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

faced  Winthrop.  Through  her  tears  her  eyes 
were  flashing  proudly,  gratefully;  the  feeling 
that  shook  her  made  her  voice  vibrate.  The 
girl  seemed  proud  of  her  tears,  proud  of  her 
debt  of  gratitude. 

"And  I've  never  forgotten  you,"  she  said, 
her  voice  eager  and  trembling,  "and  what 
you  did  for  me.  And  I've  watched  you  come 
to  this  city,  and  fight  it,  and  fight  it,  until 
you  made  them  put  you  where  you  are." 
She  stopped  to  control  her  voice,  and  smiled 
at  him.  "And  that's  why  I  knew  you  were 
District  Attorney,"  she  said;  "and  please — " 
She  fumbled  in  the  mesh  purse  at  her  waist 
and  taking  a  bill  from  it,  threw  it  upon  the 
table.  "And  please,  there's  the  money  I 
owe  you,  and — and — I  thank  you — and 
good-by."  She  turned  and  almost  ran  from 
him  toward  the  door  to  the  hall. 

"Stop!  "cried  Winthrop. 

Poised  for  flight,  the  girl  halted,  and  looked 
back. 

73 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"When  can  I  see  you  again?"  said  the 
man.  The  tone  made  it  less  a  question  than 
a  command. 

In  a  manner  as  determined  as  his  own,  the 
girl  shook  her  head. 

"No!  "she  said. 

"I  must!"  returned  the  man. 

Again  the  girl  shook  her  head,  definitely, 
finally. 

"It  won't  help  you  in  your  work,"  she 
pleaded,  "to  come  to  see  me." 

"I  must!"  repeated  Winthrop,  simply. 

The  eyes  of  the  girl  met  his,  appealingly, 
defiantly. 

"You'll  be  sorry,"  said  the  girl. 

Winthrop  laughed  an  eager,  boyish  laugh. 
When  he  spoke  the  tenseness  in  his  voice  had 
gone.  His  tone  was  confident,  bantering. 

"Then  I  will  not  come  to  see  you,"  he  said. 

Uncertain,  puzzled,  Vera  looked  at  him  in 
distress.  She  thought  he  was  mocking  her. 

"No?"  she  questioned. 
74 


"I'll  come  to  see  Vera,  the  medium,"  he 
explained. 

Vera  frowned,  and  then,  in  happy  embar 
rassment,  smiled  wistfully. 

"Oh,  well,"  she  stammered;  "of  course, 
if  you're  coming  to  consult  me  professionally 
— my  hours  are  from  four  to  six." 

"I'll  be  there,"  cried  the  District  Attor 
ney. 

Vera  leaned  forward  eagerly. 

"What  day  will  you  come?"  she  de 
manded. 

"What  day!"  exclaimed  the  young  man 
indignantly.  "Why,  this  day!" 

Vera  gave  a  guilty,  frightened  laugh. 

"Oh,  will  you?"  she  exclaimed  delight 
edly.  She  clasped  her  fingers  in  a  gesture  of 
dismay.  "Oh,  I  hope  you  won't  be  sorry!" 
she  cried. 

For  some  moments  the  District  Attorney 
of  New  York  stood  looking  at  the  door 
through  which  she  had  disappeared. 
75 


PART  II 

THE  home  of  the  Vances  was  in  Thirty- 
fifth  Street,  nearly  opposite  the  Garrick 
Theatre.  It  was  one  of  a  row  of  old-fash 
ioned  brick  houses  with  high  steps.  As  the 
seeker  after  truth  entered  the  front  hall,  he 
saw  before  him  the  stairs  to  the  second  story; 
on  his  right,  the  folding-doors  of  the  "  front 
parlor,"  and  at  the  far  end  of  the  hall,  a 
single  door  that  led  to  what  was,  in  the  old 
days,  before  this  row  of  houses  had  been 
converted  into  offices,  the  family  dining- 
room.  To  Vera,  the  Vances  had  given  the 
use  of  this  room,  as  a  "reception  parlor." 
The  visitor  first  entered  the  room  on  his  right, 
from  it  passed  through  another  pair  of  folding- 
doors  to  the  reception  parlor,  and  then,  when 
his  audience  was  at  an  end,  departed  by  the 
single  door  to  the  hall,  and  so,  to  the  street. 
77 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

The  reception  parlor  bore  but  little  like 
ness  to  a  cave  of  mystery.  There  were  no 
shaded  lights,  no  stuffed  alligator,  no  Indian 
draperies,  no  black  cat.  On  a  table,  in  the 
centre,  under  a  heavy  and  hideous  chandelier 
with  bronze  gas  jets,  was  a  green  velvet 
cushion.  On  this  nestled  an  innocent  ball  of 
crystal.  Beside  it  lay  the  ivory  knitting 
needle  with  which  Vera  pointed  out,  in  the 
hand  of  the  visitor,  those  lines  that  showed 
he  would  be  twice  married,  was  of  an  am 
bitious  temperament,  and  would  make  a 
success  upon  the  stage.  In  a  corner  stood 
a  wooden  cabinet  that  resembled  a  sentry 
box  on  wheels.  It  was  from  this,  on  certain 
evenings,  before  a  select  circle  of  spiritualists, 
that  Vera  projected  the  ghosts  of  the  de 
parted.  Hanging  inside  the  cabinet  was  a 
silver-gilt  crown  and  a  cloak  of  black  velvet, 
lined  with  purple  silk  and  covered  in  gold 
thread  with  signs  of  the  zodiac. 

Save  that  these  stage  properties  illustrated 
78 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

the  taste  of  Mabel  Vance,  the  room  was  of 
no  interest.  It  held  a  rubber  plant,  a  red 
velvet  rocking-chair,  across  the  back  of 
which  Mrs.  Vance  had  draped  a  Neapolitan 
scarf,  an  upright  piano,  upon  which  Em 
manuel  Day,  or,  as  he  was  known  to  the 
cross  roads  of  Broadway  and  Forty-second 
Street,  "Mannie"  Day,  provoked  the  most 
marvellous  rag-time,  an  enlarged  photograph 
in  crayon,  of  Professor  Vance,  in  a  frock  coat 
and  lawn  tie,  a  china  bull-dog  coquettishly 
decorated  with  a  blue  bow  and,  on  the 
mantel-piece,  two  tall  beer  steins,  and  a 
hand  telephone.  From  the  long  windows 
one  obtained  a  view  of  the  iron  shutters  of 
the  new  department  store  in  Thirty-fourth 
Street;  and  of  a  garden,  just  large  enough 
to  contain  a  sumach  tree,  a  refrigerator,  and 
the  packing-case  in  which  the  piano  had 
arrived. 

After  leaving  Winthrop,  without  waiting 
for  Vance,  Vera  had  returned  directly  to  the 
79 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

house  in  Thirty-fifth  Street,  and  locked  her 
self  in  her  room.  And  although  "Mannie" 
Day  had  already  ushered  two  visitors  into 
the  front  room,  Vera  had  not  yet  come  down 
stairs.  In  consequence,  Mabel  Vance  was  in 
possession  of  the  reception  parlor. 

Mrs.  Vance  was  plump,  pink-and-blonde ; 
credulous  and  vulgar,  but  at  all  times  of  the 
utmost  good-humor.  Her  admiration  for 
Vera  was  equalled  only  by  her  awe  of  her. 
On  this  particular  afternoon,  although  it  al 
ready  was  after  five  o'clock,  Mrs.  Vance  still 
wore  a  short  dressing  sack,  open  at  the 
throat,  and  heavy  with  somewhat  soiled  lace. 
But  her  blonde  hair  was  freshly  " marcelled," 
and  her  nails  pink  and  shining.  In  the  ab 
sence  of  Vera,  she  was  making  a  surreptitious 
and  guilty  use  of  the  telephone.  From  the 
fact  that  in  her  left  hand  she  held  the  Morn 
ing  Telegraph  open  at  the  "  previous  per 
formances"  of  the  horses,  and  that  the  page 
had  been  cruelly  lacerated  by  a  hat  pin,  it 
80 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

was  fair  to  suppose  that  whoever  was  at  the 
other  end  of  the  wire,  was  tempting  her  with 
the  closing  odds  at  the  races. 

In  her  speculations,  she  was  interrupted  by 
"Mannie"  Day,  who  entered  softly  through 
the  door  from  the  hall. 

"Mannie"  Day  was  a  youth  of  twenty- 
four.  It  was  his  heart's  desire  to  be  a 
"Broadwayard."  He  wanted  to  know  all  of 
those,  and  to  be  known  only  by  those,  who 
moved  between  the  giant  pillars  that  New 
York  threw  into  the  sky  to  mark  her  progress 
North. 

He  knew  the  soiled  White  Way  as  the  old 
est  inhabitant  knows  the  single  street  of  the 
village.  He  knew  it  from  the  Rathskellers 
underground,  to  the  roof  gardens  in  the  sky; 
in  his  firmament  the  stars  were  the  electric 
advertisements  over  Long  Acre  Square,  his 
mother  earth  was  asphalt,  the  breath  of  his 
nostrils  gasolene,  the  Telegraph  was  his  Bible. 
His  grief  was  that  no  one  in  the  Tenderloin 
81 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

would  take  him  seriously;  would  believe  him 
wicked,  wise,  predatory.  They  might  love 
him,  they  might  laugh  with  him,  they  might 
clamor  for  his  company;  in  no  flat  that  could 
boast  a  piano,  was  he  not,  on  his  entrance, 
greeted  with  a  shout;  but  the  real  Knights 
of  the  Highway  treated  him  always  as  the 
questioning,  wide-eyed  child.  In  spite  of 
his  after-midnight  pallor,  in  spite  of  his  hon 
orable  scars  of  dissipation,  it  was  his  mis 
fortune  to  be  cursed  with  a  smile  that  was  a 
perpetual  plea  of  "not  guilty." 

''What  can  you  expect?"  an  outspoken 
friend,  who  made  a  living  as  a  wireless  wire- 
tapper,  had  once  pointed  out  to  him.  "That 
smile  of  yours  could  open  a  safe.  It  could 
make  a  show  girl  give  up  money!  It's  an 
alibi  for  everything  from  overspeeding  to 
murder." 

Mannie,  as  he  listened,  flushed  with  mor 
tification.  From  that  moment  he  deter 
mined  that  his  life  should  be  devoted  to 
82 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

giving  the  lie  to  that  smile,  to  that  outward 
and  visible  sign  of  kindness,  good-will,  and 
innate  innocence.  As  yet,  he  had  not  suc 
ceeded. 

He  interrupted  Mabel  at  the  telephone  to 
inquire  the  whereabouts  of  Vera.  "There's 
two  girls  in  there,  now,"  he  said;  "waiting 
to  have  their  fortunes  doped." 

1 '  Let  'em  wait ! "  exclaimed  Mabel.  "  Vera's 
upstairs  dressing."  In  her  eyes  was  the 
baleful  glare  of  the  plunger.  ' '  What  was  that 
you  give  me  in  the  third  race?" 

At  the  first  touch  of  the  ruling  passion, 
what  interest  Mannie  may  have  felt  for  the 
impatient  visitors  vanished. 

"Not  in  the  third,"  he  corrected  briskly. 
"Keene  entry  win  the  third." 

Mabel  appealed  breathlessly  to  the  tele 
phone.  "What  price  the  Keene  entry  in  the 
third?"  She  turned  to  Mannie  with  re 
proachful  eyes.  "Even  money!"  she  com 
plained. 

83 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"That's  what  I  told  you/'  retorted  Mannie. 
He  lowered  his  voice,  and  gazed  apprehen 
sively  toward  the  front  parlor.  "If  you  want 
a  really  good  thing,"  he  whispered  hoarsely, 
"ask  Joe  what  Pompadour  is  in  the  fifth!" 

Mabel  laughed  scornfully,  disappointedly. 

"Pompadour!"  she  mocked. 

"That's  right!"  cried  the  expert.  "That's 
the  one  daily  hint  from  Paris  to-day.  Joe 
will  give  you  thirty  to  one." 

Upon  the  defenceless  woman  he  turned  the 
full  force  of  his  accursed  smile.  "Put  five 
on  for  me,  Mabel?"  he  begged. 

With  unexpected  determination  of  char 
acter  Mabel  declared  sharply  that  she  would 
do  nothing  of  the  sort. 

"Two,  then?"  entreated  the  boy. 

"Where,"  demanded  Mabel,  unfeelingly, 
"is  the  twenty  you  owe  me  now?" 

The  abruptness  of  this  unsportsman-like 
blow  below  the  belt,  caused  Mannie  to  wince. 

"How  do  I  know  where  it  is?"  he  pro- 
84 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

tested.  "As  long  as  you  haven't  got  it,  why 
do  you  care  where  it  is?  "  He  heard  the  door 
from  the  hall  open,  and  turning,  saw  Vera. 
He  appealed  to  her.  "Vera,"  he  cried, 
"you'll  loan  me  two  dollars?  I  stand  to  win 
sixty.  I'll  give  you  thirty." 

Vera  looked  inquiringly  at  Mabel.  "What 
is  it,  Mabel,"  she  asked;  "a  hand  book?" 

Mrs.  Vance  nodded  guiltily. 

"Mannie!"  exclaimed  Vera,  gently  but  re 
proachfully,  "I  told  you  I  wouldn't  loan  you 
any  more  money  till  you  paid  Mabel  what 
you've  borrowed." 

"How  can  I  pay  Mabel  what  I  borrowed," 
demanded  Mannie,  "if  I  can't  borrow  the 
money  from  you  to  pay  her?  Only  two 
dollars,  Vera!" 

Vera  nodded  to  Mabel. 

Mabel,  at  the  phone,  called,  "Two  dollars 
on  Pompadour — to — win — for  Mannie  Day," 
and  rang  off. 

"That  makes  thirty  for  you,"  exclaimed 
85 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

Mannie,    enthusiastically,    "and    twenty    I 
owe  to  Mabel,  and  that  leaves  me  ten." 

Mrs.  Vance,  no  longer  occupied  in  the 
whirlpool  of  speculation,  for  the  first  time 
observed  that  Vera  had  changed  her  matronly 
robe  of  black  lace  for  a  short  white  skirt,  and 
a  white  shirt  waist.  She  noted,  also,  that 
there  was  a  change  in  Vera's  face  and  man 
ner.  She  gave  an  impression  of  nervous 
eagerness,  of  unrest.  Her  smile  seemed  more 
appealing,  wistful,  girlish.  She  looked  like 
a  child  of  fourteen. 

But  Mabel  was  concerned  more  especially 
with  the  robe  of  virgin  white. 

For  the  month,  which  was  July,  the  cos 
tume  was  appropriate,  but,  in  the  opinion  of 
Mabel,  in  no  way  suited  to  the  priestess  of 
the  occult  and  the  mysterious. 

"Why,    Vera!"    exclaimed    Mrs.    Vance, 
"whatever  have  you  got   on?    Ain't   you 
going  to  receive  visitors?    There's  ten  dollars 
waiting  in  there  now." 
86 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

In  sudden  apprehension,  Vera  looked  down 
at  her  spotless  garments. 

"Don't  I  look  nice?"  she  begged. 

"Of  course  you  look  nice,  dearie,"  Mabel 
assured  her,  "but  you  don't  look  like  no 
fortune-teller." 

"If  you  want  to  know  what  you  look  like," 
said  Mannie  sternly,  "you  look  like  one  of  the 
waiter  girls  at  Childs's,  that's  what  you  look 
like." 

"And  your  crown!"  exclaimed  Mabel, 
"and  your  kimono.  Ain't  you  going  to  wear 
your  kimono?" 

She  hastened  to  the  cabinet  and  produced 
the  cloak  of  black  velvet  and  spangles,  and 
the  silver-gilt  crown. 

"No,  I  am  not!"  declared  Vera.  She  wore 
the  frightened  look  of  a  mutinous  child.  "I 
— I  look  so — foolish  in  them!" 

Such  heresy  caused  Mannie  to  gasp  aloud: 

"You  look  grand  in  them,"  he  protested; 
"don't  she,  Mabel?" 

87 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"Sure  she  does,"  assented  that  lady. 

"And  your  junk?"  demanded  Mannie,  re 
ferring  to  the  jade  necklace  and  the  gold- 
plated  bracelets.  His  eyes  opened  in  sym 
pathy.  "You  haven't  pawned  them,  have 
you?" 

"Pawned  them?"  laughed  Vera;  "I 
couldn't  get  anything  on  them!"  As  the 
only  masculine  point  of  view  available,  she 
appealed  to  Mannie,  wistfully.  "Don't  you 
like  me  better  this  way,  Mannie?"  she  begged. 

But  that  critic  protested  violently. 

"Not  a  bit  like  it"  he  cried.  "Now,  in 
the  gold  tiara  and  the  spangled  opera  cloak," 
he  differentiated,  "you  look  like  a  picture 
postal  card!  You  got  Lotta  Faust's  blue 
skirt  back  to  Levey's.  But  not  in  the  white 
goods!"  He  shook  his  head  sadly,  firmly. 
"You  look,  now,  like  you  was  made  up  for  a 
May-day  picnic  in  the  Bronx,  and  they'd 
picked  on  you  to  be  Queen  of  the  May." 

Mabel  carried  the  much-admired  opera 
88 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

cloak  to  Vera,  and  held  it  out,  tempting 
her. 

"  You'll  wear  it,  just  to  please  me  and 
Mannie,  won't  you,  dearie?"  she  begged. 
Vera  retreated  before  it  as  though  it  held 
the  germs  of  contagion. 

"I  will  not,"  she  rebelled.  "I  hate  it! 
When  I  have  that  on,  I  feel — mean.  I  feel 
as  mean  as  though  I  were  picking  pennies 
out  of  a  blind  man's  hat."  Mannie  roared 
with  delight. 

"Gee!"  he  shouted;  "but  that's  a  hot 
one." 

"Besides,"  said  Vera,  consciously,  "I'm 
— I'm  expecting  some  one." 

The  manner  more  than  the  words  thrilled 
Mabel  with  the  most  joyful  expectations. 

She  exclaimed  excitedly.  "A  gentleman 
friend,  Vera?"  she  asked. 

That  Vera  shunned  all  young  men  had  been 
to  Mabel  a  source  of  wonder  and  of  pride. 
Even  when  the  young  men  were  the  friends 
89 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

of  her  husband  and  of  herself,  the  preoccu 
pied  manner  with  which  Vera  received  them 
did  not  provoke  in  Mabel  any  resentment. 
It  rather  increased  her  approbation.  Al 
though  horrified  at  the  recklessness  of  the 
girl,  she  had  approved  even  when  Vera  re 
jected  an  offer  of  marriage  from  a  wine  agent. 

Secretly,  for  a  proper  alliance  for  her, 
Mabel  read  the  society  columns,  in  search  of 
eligible,  rich  young  men.  Finding  that  they 
invariably  married  eligible,  rich  young  wom 
en,  she  had  lately  determined  that  Vera's 
destiny  must  be  an  English  duke. 

Still,  if,  as  she  hoped,  Vera  had  chosen  for 
herself,  Mabel  felt  assured  that  the  man 
would  prove  worthy,  and  a  good  match.  A 
good  match  meant  one  who  owned  not  only 
a  runabout,  but  a  touring  car. 

"It's  a  man  from  home,"  said  Vera. 

"Home?"  queried  Mannie. 

"From  up  the  State,"  explained  Vera; 
"from  Geneva.    It's — Mr.  Winthrop." 
90 


I  will  not,"  she  rebelled.     "  I  hate  it !  " 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

With  an  exclamation  of  alarm,  Mannie 
started  upright.  " Winthrop ! "  he  cried,  then 
with  a  laugh  of  relief  he  sank  back.  "Gee! 
you  give  me  a  scare,"  he  cried.  "I  thought 
you  meant  the  District  Attorney." 

Mabel  laughed  sympathetically. 

"I  thought  so  too,"  she  admitted. 

"I  do  mean  the  District  Attorney,"  said 
the  girl. 

"Vera!"  cried  Mabel. 

"Winthrop — coming  here?"  demanded 
Mannie. 

"I  met  him  at  Mr.  Hallowell's  this  morn 
ing,"  said  Vera.  "Didn't  Paul  tell  you?" 

"Paul  ain't  back  yet,"  said  Mannie.  "I 
wish  he  was!"  His  lower  jaw  dropped  in 
dazed  bewilderment.  "Winthrop — coming 
here ? "  he  repeated.  "And  they're  all  coming 
here!"  he  exclaimed,  excitedly.  "Paul  just 
phoned  me.  They've  taken  Gaylor  in  with 
them,  and  we're  all  working  together  now 
on  some  game  for  to-night.  And  Winthrop's 
91 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

coming  here!"  he  shook  his  head  decidedly, 
importantly.  As  the  only  man  of  the  family 
present,  he  felt  he  must  meet  this  crisis. 
"Paul  won't  stand  for  it!"  he  declared. 

"Well,  Paul  will  just  have  to  stand  for  it!" 
retorted  Mrs.  Vance. 

With  a  murmur  of  sympathy  she  crossed 
to  Vera.  "I'm  not  going  to  see  our  Vera 
disappointed,"  she  announced.  "She  never 
sees  no  company.  Vera,  if  Mr.  Winthrop 
comes  when  that  bunch  is  here,  I'll  show  him 
into  the  front  parlor." 

Vera  sat  down  in  front  of  the  piano,  and 
let  her  fingers  drop  upon  the  keys.  The  look 
of  eagerness  and  anticipation  had  left  her 
eyes. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  she  said,  "that  I 
want  to  see  him — now." 

With  complete  misunderstanding,  Mannie 

demanded   truculently,    "Why   not?"    His 

loyalty  to  Vera  gave  him  courage,  in  her 

behalf,  to  face  even  a  District  Attorney.   ' '  He 

92 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

doesn't  think  he's  coming  here  to  make 
trouble  for  you,  does  he?" 

Vera  shook  her  head,  and  bending  over  the 
piano,  struck  a  few  detached  chords. 

"Oh,  no,"  she  said,  consciously;  "just  to 
see  me — professionally — like  everybody  else." 

Mabel  could  no  longer  withhold  her  in 
dignation  at  the  obtuseness  of  the  masculine 
intellect. 

"My  gracious,  Mannie!"  she  exclaimed, 
"can't  you  understand  he's  coming  here  to 
make  a  call  on  Vera — like  a  gentleman — not 
like  no  District  Attorney." 

Mannie  precipitately  retreated  from  his 
position  as  champion. 

"Sure,  I  understand,"  he  protested. 

With  the  joy  that  a  match-making  mother 
takes  in  the  hunt,  Mabel  sank  into  the  plush 
rocking-chair,  and  rocking  violently,  turned 
upon  Vera  an  eager  and  excited  smile. 

"Think  of  our  Vera  knowing  Mr.  Win- 
throp,  socially ! "  she  exclaimed.  ' '  It's  grand ! 
93 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

And  they  say  his  sisters  are  elegant  ladies. 
Last  winter  I  read  about  them  at  the  opera, 
and  it  always  printed  what  they  had  on. 
Why  didn't  you  tell  me  you  knowed  him, 
Vera?"  she  cried  reproachfully,  "I  tell  you 
everything!" 

"I  don't  know  him,"  protested  the  girl. 
"I  used  to  see  him  when  he  lived  in  the  same 
town." 

Mabel,  inviting  further  confidences,  ceased 
rocking  and  nodded  encouragingly.  "Up  in 
Geneva?"  she  prompted. 

"Yes,"  said  Vera;  "I  used  to  see  him 
every  afternoon  then,  when  he  played  ball 
on  the  college  nine " 

"Who?"  demanded  Mannie,  incredulously. 

"Winthrop,"  said  Vera. 

"Did  he?"  exclaimed  Mannie.  His  tone 
suggested  that  he  might  still  be  persuaded 
that  there  was  good  in  the  man. 

"What'd  he  play?"  he  demanded  sus 
piciously. 

94 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"First,"  said  Vera. 

"Did  he!"  exclaimed  Mannie.  His  tone 
now  was  of  open  approbation. 

Vera  had  raised  her  eyes,  and  turned  them 
toward  the  windows.  Beyond  the  soot- 
stained  sumach  tree,  the  fire-escapes  of  the 
department  store,  she  saw  the  sun-drenched 
campus,  the  buttressed  chapel,  the  ancient, 
drooping  elms;  and  on  a  canvas  bag,  poised 
like  a  winged  Mercury,  a  tall  straight  figure 
in  gray,  dusty  flannels. 

"He  was  awfully  good-looking,"  mur 
mured  the  girl,  "and  awfully  tall.  He  could 
stop  a  ball  as  high  as — that!"  She  raised 
her  arm  in  the  air;  and  then,  suddenly 
conscious,  flushed,  and  turned  to  the 
piano. 

"Go  on,  tell  us,"  urged  Mabel.  "So  you 
first  met  him  in  Geneva,  did  you?" 

"No,"  corrected  Vera;  "saw  him  there. 
I — I  only  met  him  once." 

Mannie  interrupted  hilariously. 
95 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

" I  only  saw  him  once,  too,"  he  cried; 
"that  was  enough  for  me." 

Vera  swiftly  spun  the  piano  stool,  so  that 
she  faced  him.  Her  eyes  were  filled  with 
concern. 

"You,  Mannie!"  she  demanded  anxiously. 
"What  had  you  done?" 

"Done!"  exclaimed  Mannie  indignantly; 
"nothing!  What 'd  you  think  I'd  done?  Did 
you  think  I  was  a  crook?" 

Vera  bowed  her  shoulders,  and  shivered  as 
though  the  boy  had  cursed  at  her.  She 
shook  her  head  vehemently,  and  again  swung 
back  to  the  piano.  Stumbling  awkwardly, 
her  fingers  ran  over  the  keys  in  a  swift  clatter 
of  broken  chords.  "No,"  she  whispered, 
"no,  Mannie,  no." 

With  a  laugh  of  delighted  recollection, 
Mannie  turned  to  Mabel. 

"He  raided  a  pool  room  I  was  working 
at,"  he  explained.  "He  picked  me  out  as 
a  sheet  writer,  because  I  had  my  coat  off, 
96 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

see?  I  told  him  I  had  it  off  because  it  was 
too  hot  for  me,  and  he  says,  'Young  man, 
if  you  lie  to  me,  I'll  make  it  a  damn  sight 
hotter!"  Mannie  threw  back  his  head  and 
shouted  uproariously.  "He's  all  right,  Win- 
throp!"  he  declared. 

Mabel,  having  already  married  Winthrop 
to  Vera  in  Grace  Church,  with  herself  in  the 
front  pew,  in  a  blue  silk  dress,  received  this 
unexpected  evidence  of  his  rare  wit  with  de 
light.  In  ecstasy  of  appreciation  she  slapped 
her  knees. 

"Did  he  say  that,  Mannie,"  she  cried. 
"Wasn't  that  quick  of  him!  Did  you  hear 
what  he  said  to  Mannie,  Vera?"  she  de 
manded. 

Their  mirth  was  interrupted  by  the  open 
ing  and  closing  of  the  front  door,  and  in  the 
hall,  the  murmur  of  men's  voices. 

Vance  opened  the  door  from  the  hall  and 
entered,  followed  by  Judge  Gaylor  and 
Rainey.  With  evident  pride  in  her  appear- 
97 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

ance,  Vance  introduced  the  two  men  to  his 
wife,  and  then  sent  her  and  Mannie  from  the 
room;  the  latter  with  orders  to  dismiss  the 
visitors  in  the  front  parlor  and  to  admit  no 
others. 

At  the  door  Mrs.  Vance  turned  to  Vera  and 
nodded  mysteriously. 

"If  that  party  calls,"  she  said  with  sig 
nificance,  "I'll  put  him  in  the  front  parlor." 
With  a  look  of  dismay,  Vera  vehemently 
shook  her  head,  but  to  forestall  any  opposi 
tion,  Mrs.  Vance  hastily  slammed  the  door 
behind  her. 

In  his  most  courteous  manner  Judge  Gay- 
lor  offered  the  chair  at  the  head  of  the  centre 
table  to  Vera,  and  at  the  same  table  seated 
himself.  Vance  took  a  place  on  the  piano 
stool;  Rainey  stood  with  his  back  to  the 
mantel-piece. 

"Miss  Vera,"  Gaylor  began,  impressively, 
"I  desire  to  apologize  for  my  language  this 
morning.  As  Rainey  no  doubt  has  told  you, 
98 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

I  have  opposed  you  and  Professor  Vance. 
But  I — I  know  when  I'm  beaten.  Your  in 
fluence  with  Mr.  Hallowell  to-day — is  greater 
than  mine.  It  is  paramount.  I  congratu 
late  you."  He  smiled  ingratiatingly.  "And 
now,"  he  added,  "we  are  all  working  in 
unison." 

"You've  given  up  your  idea  of  sending  me 
to  jail,"  said  Vera. 

"Vera!"  exclaimed  Vance  reprovingly. 
"Judge  Gaylor  has  apologized.  We're  all  in 
harmony  now." 

"Is  that  door  locked?"  asked  Gaylor. 
Vance  told  him,  save  Mrs.  Vance,  Mannie  and 
themselves,  there  was  none  in  the  house; 
and  that  he  might  speak  freely. 

"Miss  Vera,"  began  the  Judge,  "we  left 
Mr.  Hallowell  very  much  impressed  with 
the  message  you  gave  him  this  morning. 
The  message  from  his  dead  sister.  He 
wants  another  message  from  her.  He 
wants  her  to  decide  how  he  shall  dispose 
99 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

of  a  very  large  sum  of  money — his  entire 
fortune." 

"His  entire  fortune!"  exclaimed  Vera. 
"Do  you  imagine,"  she  asked,  "that  Mr. 
Hallowell  will  take  advice  from  the  spirit 
world  about  that?  I  don't!" 

"I  do,"  Gaylor  answered  stoutly;  "I 
know  7  would." 

"You?"  asked  Vera  incredulously. 

"If  I  could  believe  my  sister  came  from 
the  dead  to  tell  me  what  to  do,"  said  the 
lawyer,  "of  course,  I'd  do  it.  I'd  be  afraid 
not  to.  But  I  don't  believe.  He  does. 
And  he  believes  you  can  bring  his  sister  her 
self  before  him.  He  insists  that  to-night  you 
hold  a  seance  in  his  house,  and  that  you 
materialize  the  spirit  of  his  dead  sister.  So 
that  he  can  see  his  sister,  and  talk  with  his 
sister.  Vance  says  you  can  do  that.  Can 
you?" 

From  Vera's  face  the  look  of  girlishness,  of 
happy  anticipation  had  already  disappeared. 
100 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"It  is  my  business  to  do  that,"  the  girl 
answered.  She  turned  to  Vance,  and  in  a 
matter-of-fact  voice  inquired,  "What  does 
his  sister  look  like — that  photograph  we  used 
this  morning?" 

"No,"  Vance  answered.  "I've  a  better 
one,  Rainey  gave  me.  Taken  when  she  was 
older.  Has  white  hair  and  a  cap  and  a  ker 
chief  crossed — so."  He  drew  his  hands 
across  his  shoulders.  "Rainey,  show  Miss 
Vera  that  picture." 

"Not  now,"  Gaylor  commanded.  "The 
important  thing  now  is  that  Miss  Vera  under 
stands  the  message  Mr.  Hallovrell  is  to  re 
ceive  from  his  sister." 

The  two  other  men  nodded  quickly  in 
assent.  Gaylor  turned  to  Vera.  He  spoke 
slowly,  earnestly. 

"Miss  Vera,"  he  said,  "Mr.  Hallowell's 

present  will  leaves  his  fortune  to  his  niece. 

He  has  made  another  will,  which  he  has  not 

signed,  leaving  his  fortune  to  the  Hallowell 

101 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

Institute.  He  will  ask  his  sister,  to  which  of 
these  he  should  leave  his  money.  You  will 
tell  him — "  he  corrected  himself  instantly, 
"she  will  tell  him  to  give  it  where  it  will  be 
of  the  greatest  good  to  the  most  people — to 
the  Institute."  There  was  a  pause.  "Do 
you  understand?"  he  asked. 

"To  the  Institute.  Not  to  the  niece," 
Vera  answered.  Gaylor  nodded  gravely. 

"What,"  asked  Vera,  "are  the  fewest 
words  in  which  that  message  could  be  deliv 
ered?  I  mean — should  she  say,  'You  are  to 
endow  the  Hallowell  Institute/  or  '  Brother, 
you  are  to  give — '  'Sign  the  new  will'?" 
With  satisfaction  the  girl  gave  a  sharp  shake 
of  her  head,  and  nodded  to  Vance.  '"De 
stroy  the  old  will.  Sign  the  new  will.'  That 
is  the  best,"  she  said. 

"That's   it    exactly,"    Gaylor   exclaimed 

eagerly,  "that's  excellent!"     Then  his  face 

clouded.    "I  think,"  he  said,  in  a  troubled 

voice,  "we  should  warn  Miss  Vera,  that  to 

102 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

guard  himself  from  any  trickery,  Mr.  Hallo- 
well  insists  on  subjecting  her  to  the  most 
severe  tests,  he " 

"That  will  be  all  right,"  said  the  girl.  She 
turned  to  Vance,  and,  in  a  lower  tone,  but 
without  interest,  asked,  "What,  for  in 
stance?"  Vance  merely  laughed  and  shrug 
ged  his  shoulders.  The  girl  smiled.  Nettled, 
and  alarmed  at  what  appeared  to  be  their 
overconfidence,  Gaylor  objected  warmly. 

"That's  all  very  well,"  he  cried,  "but 
'for  instance/  he  insists  that  the  entire  time 
you  are  in  the  cabinet,  you  hold  a  handful  of 
flour  in  one  hand,  and  of  shot  in  the  other — " 
He  illustrated  with  clenched  fists — "Which 
makes  it  impossible,"  he  protested,  "for  you 
to  use  your  hands." 

The  face  of  the  girl  showed  complete  in 
difference. 

"Not  necessarily,"  she  said. 

"But  you  are  to  be  tied  hand  and  foot," 
cried  the  Judge.  "And  on  top  of  that,"  he 
103 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

burst  forth  indignantly,  pointing  aggrievedly 
at  Vance,  "he  himself,  proposed  this  flour- 
and-shot  test.  It  was  silly,  senseless  bra 
vado!" 

' '  Not  necessarily,"  repeated  the  girl.  ' '  He 
knew  that  I  invented  it."  Rainey  laughed. 
Gaylor  gave  an  exclamation  of  enlighten 
ment. 

"  If  it  will  be  of  any  comfort  to  you,  Judge," 
said  Vance,  "I'll  tell  you  one  thing:  every 
test  that  ever  was  put  to  a  medium — was  in 
vented  by  a  medium." 

Vera  rose.  "If  there  is  nothing  more," 
she  said,  "I  will  go  and  get  the  things  ready 
for  this  evening.  'Destroy  the  old  will. 
Sign  the  new  will/  "  she  repeated.  She  turned 
suddenly  to  Vance,  her  brow  drawn  in  con 
sideration.  "I  suppose  by  this  new  will," 
she  asked,  "the  girl  gets  nothing?" 

"Not  at  all!"  exclaimed  Gaylor,  emphati 
cally.  "We  don't  want  her  to  fight  the  will. 
She  gets  a  million." 

104 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"A  million  dollars?"  demanded  Vera.  For 
an  instant,  as  though  trying  to  grasp  the 
possibilities  of  such  a  sum,  she  stood  staring 
ahead  of  her.  With  doubt  in  her  eyes,  and 
shaking  her  head,  she  turned  to  Vance: 

"How  can  one  woman  spend  a  million  dol 
lars?"  she  protested. 

"Well,  you  see,  we  don't  intend  to  starve 
her,"  exclaimed  Gaylor  eagerly,  "and  at  the 
same  time,  the  Institute  will  be  benefiting 
all  humanity.  Doing  good  to " 

Vera  interrupted  him  with  a  sharp,  per 
emptory  movement  of  the  hand. 

"We  won't  go  into  that,  please,"  she  begged. 

The  Judge  inclined  his  head.  "I  only 
meant  to  point  out,"  he  said  stiffly,  "that 
you  are  giving  Mr.  Hallowell  the  best  advice, 
and  doing  great  good." 

For  a  moment,  the  girl  looked  at  him 
steadily.  On  her  lips  was  a  faint  smile  of 
disdain,  but  whether  for  him  or  for  herself, 
the  Judge  could  not  determine.  \ 

105 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"I  don't  know  that,"  the  girl  said  finally. 
"I  don't  ask."  She  turned  to  Rainey.  "Have 
you  that  photograph?  "  He  gave  her  a  photo 
graph  and  after,  for  an  instant,  studying  it 
in  silence,  she  returned  it  to  him. 

"It  will  be  quite  easy,"  she  said  to  Vance. 
She  walked  to  the  door,  and  instinctively  the 
two  men,  who  were  seated,  rose. 

"I  will  see  you  to-night  at  Mr.  Hallo- 
well's,"  she  said,  and,  with  a  nod,  left  them. 

"Well,"  exclaimed  Rainey,  "you  didn't 
tell  her!" 

"I  know,"  Vance  answered.  "I  decided 
we'd  be  wiser  to  take  advice  from  my  wife. 
She  understands  Vera  better  than  I  do."  He 
opened  the  door  to  the  hall,  and  called, 
"Mannie!  tell  Mabel — oh,  Mabel,"  he  cor 
rected,  "come  here  a  minute."  He  returned 
to  his  seat  on  the  piano  stool.  "She  can 
tell  us,"  he  said. 

In  expectation  of  the  arrival  of  Winthrop, 
Mrs.  Vance  had  arrayed  herself  in  a  light-blue 
106 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

frock,  and  as  though  she  had  just  come  in 
from  the  street,  in  such  a  hat  as  she  con 
sidered  would  do  credit  not  only  to  Vera, 
but  to  herself. 

"Mabel,"  her  husband  began,  "we're  up 
against  a  hard  proposition.  Hallowell  insists 
that  Winthrop  and  Miss  Coates  must  come 
to  the  seance  to-night." 

"Winthrop  and  Miss  Coates!"  cried  Mabel. 
In  astonishment  she  glanced  from  her  hus 
band  to  Rainey  and  Gaylor.  "Then,  it's  all 
off!"  she  exclaimed. 

"That's  what  I  say,"  growled  Rainey. 

"We  want  you  to  tell  us,"  continued  Vance, 
unmoved,  "whether  Vera  should  know  that 
now,  or  wait  until  to-night?" 

"Paul  Vance!"  almost  shrieked  his  wife, 
"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  you're  thinking  of 
giving  a  materialization  in  front  of  the  Dis 
trict  Attorney!  You're  crazy!" 

"That's  what  I  tell  them,"  chorused 
Rainey. 

107 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

Gaylor  raised  his  hand  for  silence. 

"No,  Mrs.  Vance,"  he  said  wearily.  "We 
are  not  crazy,  but,"  he  added,  bitterly,  "we 
can't  help  ourselves.  You  mediums  have 
got  Mr.  Hallowell  in  such  a  state  that  he'll 
only  do  what  his  sister's  spirit  tells  him.  He 
says,  if  he's  robbing  his  niece,  his  sister  will 
tell  him  so;  if  he's  to  give  the  money  to  the 
Institute,  his  sister  will  tell  him  that.  He 
says,  if  Vance  is  fair  and  above-board,  he 
shouldn't  be  afraid  to  have  his  niece  and  any 
friends  of  hers  present.  We  can't  help  our 
selves." 

"I  helped  a  little,"  said  Vance,  "by  insist 
ing  on  having  our  own  friends  there — told 
him  the  spirit  could  not  materialize  unless 
there  were  believers  present." 

"Did  he  stand  for  that?"  asked  Mabel. 

"Glad  to  have  them,"  her  husband  assured 

her.    "They  like  to  think  there  are  others  as 

foolish  as  they  are.    And  I'm  going  to  place 

Mr.  District  Attorney,"  he  broke  out  sud- 

108 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

denly  and  fiercely,  "  bet  ween  two  mediums. 
They'll  hold  his  hands!" 

Already  frightened  by  the  possible  result 
of  the  plot,  Rainey  with  a  vehemence  born  of 
fear,  retorted  sharply:  "Hold  his  hands! 
How're  you  going  to  make  him  hold  his 
tongue,  afterward?" 

Gaylor  turned  upon  him  savagely. 

0 

"My  God,  man!"  he  cried,  "we're  not 
trying  to  persuade  the  District  Attorney  that 
he's  seen  a  ghost.  If  your  friends  can  per 
suade  Stephen  Hallowell  that  he's  seen  one, 
the  District  Attorney  can  go  to  the  devil!" 

"Well,  he  won't!"  returned  Rainey;  "he'll 
go  to  law!" 

"Let  him!"  cried  Gaylor  defiantly.  "Get 
Hallowell  to  sign  that  will,  and  I'll  go  into 
court  with  him." 

His  bravado  was  suddenly  attacked  from 
an  unexpected  source. 

"You'll  go  into  court  with  him,  all  right," 
declared  Mrs.  Vance, ' '  all  of  you !  And  if  you 
109 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

don't  want  him  to  catch  you,"  she  cried, 
" you'll  clear  out,  now!  He's  coming  here 
any  minute." 

" Who's  coming  here?"  demanded  her  hus 
band. 

"Winthrop,"  returned  his  wife,  "to  see 
Vera." 

"To  see  Vera!"  cried  Vance,  eagerly. 
"What  about?  About  this  morning?" 

"No,"  protested  Mabel,  "to  call  on  her. 
He's  an  old  friend " 

In  alarm  Rainey  pushed  into  the  group  of 
now  thoroughly  excited  people.  "Don't  you 
believe  it!"  he  cried.  "If  he's  coming  here, 
he's  coming  to  give  her  the  third  degree " 

The  door  from  the  hall  suddenly  opened, 
was  as  suddenly  closed,  and  Mannie  slipped 
into  the  room.  One  hand  he  held  up  for 
silence;  with  the  other  he  pointed  at  the 
folding  doors. 

"Hush ! "  he  warned  them.  " He's  in  there ! 
He  says,  he's  come  to  call  on  Vera.  She 
110 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

says,  he's  come  professionally,  and  I  must 
bring  him  in  here.  I've  shut  the  door  into 
the  parlor,  and  you  can  slip  upstairs,  without 
his  seeing  you." 

"Upstairs!"  gasped  Rainey,  "not  for  me!" 
He  appealed  to  Gaylor  in  accents  of  real 
alarm.  ' '  We  must  get  away  from  this  house," 
he  declared.  "If  he  finds  us  here — "  with  a 
gesture  of  dismay  he  tossed  his  hands  in  the 
air.  Gaylor  nodded.  In  silence,  all,  save 
Mannie,  moved  into  the  hall,  and  halted  be 
tween  the  outer  and  inner  doors  of  the  ves 
tibule.  Gaylor  turned  to  Vance.  "Are  you 
going  to  tell  her,"  he  asked,  "that  he  is  to 
be  there  to-night?" 

"He'll  tell  her  himself,  now!" 

"No,"  corrected  Rainey;  "he  doesn't 
know  yet  there's  to  be  a  seance.  Hallowell 
was  writing  the  note  when  he  left." 

"Then,"  instructed  Gaylor,  "do  not  let 
her  know  until  she  arrives,  until  it  will  be 
too  late  for  her  to  back  out." 
Ill 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

Vance  nodded,  and  waiting  until,  from  the 
back  room  he  heard  the  voices  of  Mannie  and 
Winthrop,  he  opened  the  front  door  and  the 
two  men  ran  down  the  steps  into  the  street. 

While  the  conspirators  were  hidden  in  the 
vestibule,  Mannie  had  opened  the  folding 
doors,  and  invited  Winthrop  to  enter  the 
reception  parlor. 

"Miss  Vera  will  be  down  in  a  minute,"  he 
said.  "If  you  want  your  hand  read,"  he 
added,  pointing,  "you  sit  over  there." 

As  Winthrop  approached  the  centre  table, 
Mannie  backed  against  the  piano.  The 
presence  of  the  District  Attorney  at  such 
short  range,  aroused  in  him  many  emotions. 
Alternately  he  was  torn  with  alarm,  with  ad 
miration,  with  curiosity.  He  regarded  him 
apprehensively  with  a  nervous  and  unhappy 
smile. 

About  the  smile  there  was  something  that 
Winthrop   found   familiar,   and,   with   one 
almost  as  attractive,  he  answered  it. 
112 


"I  think  we've  met  before,  haven't  we?" 
he  asked  pleasantly. 

Mannie  nodded.  "Yes,  sir,"  he  answered 
promptly.  "At  Sam  Hepner's  old  place,  on 
West  Forty-fourth  Street." 

"Why,  of  course!"  exclaimed  the  District 
Attorney. 

"Don't  you — don't  you  remember?"  stam 
mered  Mannie  eagerly.  He  was  deeply  con 
cerned  lest  the  distinguished  cross-examiner 
should  think,  that  from  him,  of  his  lurid  past 
he  could  withhold  anything.  "I  had  my  coat 
off — and  you  said  you'd  make  it  hot  for  me." 

"Did  I?"  asked  Winthrop  with  an  effort  at 
recollection. 

"No,  you  didn't!"  Mannie  hastened  to 
reassure  him.  "I  mean,  you  didn't  make  it 
hot  for  me." 

Winthrop  laughed,  and  seated  himself  com 
fortably  beside  the  centre  table.    "Well  I'm 
glad  of  that,"  he  said.    "So  our  relations  are 
still  pleasant,  then?"  he  asked. 
113 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"Sure!"  exclaimed  Mannie.  heartily.  "I 
mean — yes,  sir." 

Winthrop  mechanically  reached  for  his 
cigarette  case,  and  then,  recollecting,  with 
drew  his  hand. 

"And  how  are  the  ponies  running?"  he 
asked. 

The  interview  was  filling  Mannie  with  ex 
citement  and  delight.  He  chuckled  with 
pleasure.  His  fear  of  the  great  man  was 
rapidly  departing.  Could  this,  he  asked 
himself,  be  the  "terror  to  evil-doers,"  the 
man  whose  cruel  questions  drove  witnesses 
to  tears,  whose  "third  degree,"  sent  veterans 
of  the  under-world  staggering  from  his  con 
fessional  box,  limp  and  gasping? 

"Oh,  pretty  well,"  said  the  boy;  "seems 
as  if  I  couldn't  keep  away  from  them.  I  got 
a  good  thing  for  to-day — Pompadour — in  the 
fifth.  I  put  all  the  money  on  her  I  could  get 
together,"  he  announced  importantly,  and 
then  added  frankly,  with  a  laugh,  "two 
114 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

dollars!"  The  laugh  was  contagious,  and 
the  District  Attorney  laughed  with  him. 

" Pompadour,"  Winthrop  objected,  "she's 
one  of  those  winter-track  favorites." 

"I  know,  but  to-day,"  declared  Mannie, 
"she  win,  sure!"  Carried  away  by  his  en 
thusiasm,  and  by  the  sympathy  of  his  audi 
ence,  he  rushed,  unheeding,  to  his  fate.  "If 
you'd  like  to  put  a  little  on,"  he  said,  "I  can 
tell  you  where  you  can  do  it." 

The  District  Attorney  stared  and  laughed. 
"You  mustn't  tell  me  where  you  can  do  it/' 
he  said. 

Mannie  gave  a  terrified  gasp,  and,  for  an 
instant,  clapped  his  hands  over  his  lips. 
"That's  right;"  he  cried.  "Gee,  that's  right! 
I'm  such  a  crank  on  all  kinds  of  sport,  that  I 
clean  forgot!" 

He  gazed  at  the   much-dreaded  District 

Attorney  with  the   awe   of   the   new-born 

hero-worshipper.    "I   guess   you   are,    too, 

hey?"     he    protested    admiringly.     "Vera 

115 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

was  telling  me  you  used  to  be  a  great  ball 
tosser." 

In  the  face  of  the  District  Attorney  there 
came  a  sudden  interest.  His  eyes  lightened. 

"How  did  she " 

"She  used  to  watch  you  in  Geneva/'  said 
Mannie;  "playing  with  the  college  lads.  I 
— I,"  he  added  consciously,  "was  a  ball 
player  myself  once.  Used  to  pitch  for 
the  Interstate  League."  He  stopped  ab 
ruptly. 

"Interstate?"  said  Winthrop  encourag 
ingly.  "You  must  have  been  good." 

The  enthusiasm  had  departed  from  the 
face  of  the  boy.  "Yes,"  he  said,  "but — "  he 
smiled  shamefacedly,  "but  I  got  taking 
coke,  and  they — "  he  finished  with  a  dra 
matic  gesture  of  the  hand  as  of  a  man  tossing 
away  a  cigarette. 

"Cocaine?"  said  the  District  Attorney. 

The  boy  nodded;  and  for  an  instant,  the 
two  men  eyed  each  other,  the  boy  smiling 
116 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

ruefully.  The  District  Attorney  shook  his 
head.  "My  young  friend,"  he  said,  "you 
can  never  beat  iliat  game!" 

Mannie  stared  at  him,  his  eyes  filled  with 
surprise. 

"Don't  you  suppose,"  he  said,  simply, 
"that  I  know  that  better  than  you  do?" 
With  a  boy's  pride  in  his  own  incorrigibility 
he  went  on,  boastingly;  "Oh,  yes,"  he  said, 
"I  used  to  be  awful  bad!  Cocaine  and  all 
kinds  of  dope,  and  cigarettes,  and  whiskey — 
I  was  nearly  all  in — with  morphine,  it  was 
then — till  she  took  hold  of  me,  and  stopped 


me." 


"She?"  said  Winthrop. 

"Vera,"  said  Mannie.  "She  made  me 
stop.  I  had  to  stop.  She  started  taking  it 
herself." 

"What!"  cried  Winthrop. 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Mannie,  hastily,  "I  don't 
mean  what  you  mean — I  mean  she  started 
taking  it  to  make  me  stop.  She  says  to  me, 
117 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

'Mannie,  you're  killing  yourself,  and  you  got 
to  quit  it;  and  if  you  don't,  every  time  you 
take  a  grain,  I'll  take  two.'  And  she  did! 
I'd  come  home,  and  she'd  see  what  I'd  been 
doing,  and  she'd  up  with  her  sleeves,  and— 
In  horrible  pantomime,  the  boy  lifted  the 
cuff  of  his  shirt,  and  pressed  his  right  thumb 
against  the  wrist  of  his  other  arm.  At  the 
memory  of  it,  he  gave  a  shiver,  and  with  a 
blow,  roughly  struck  the  cuff  into  place. 
"God!"  he  muttered.  "I  couldn't  stand  it. 
I  begged,  and  begged  her  not.  I  cried.  I 
used  to  get  down,  in  this  room,  on  my  knees. 
And  each  time  she'd  get  whiter,  and  black 
under  the  eyes.  And — and  I  had  to  stop. 
Didn't  I?" 

Winthrop  moved  his  head. 

"And  now,"  cried  the  boy  with  a  happy 
laugh,  "I'm  all  right!"  He  appealed  to  the 
older  man  eagerly,  wistfully.  "Don't  you 
think  I'm  looking  better  than  I  did  the  last 
time  you  saw  me?" 

118 


VERA,    THE     MEDIUM 

Again,  without  venturing  to  speak,  Win- 
throp  nodded. 

Mannie  smiled  with  pride.  "  Everybody 
tells  me  so,"  he  said.  "Well,  she  did  it. 
That's  what  she  did  for  me.  And,  I  can  tell 
you,"  he  said  simply,  sincerely,  "there  ain't 
anything  I  wouldn't  do  for  her.  I  guess 
that's  right,  hey?"  he  added. 

The  eyes  of  the  cruel  cross-examiner,  veiled 
under  half-closed  lids,  were  regarding  the 
boy  with  so  curious  an  expression  that  under 
their  scrutiny,  Mannie  in  embarrassment, 
moved  uneasily.  "I  guess  that's  right,"  he 
repeated. 

To  his  surprise,  the  District  Attorney  rose 
from  his  comfortable  position  and,  leaning 
across  the  table,  held  out  his  hand.  Mannie 
took  it  awkwardly. 

"That's  all  right,"  he  said. 

"Sure,  it's  all  right,"  said  the  District 
Attorney. 

From  the  hall  there  was  the  sound  of  light, 
119 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

quick  steps;  and  Mannie,  happy  to  escape 
from  a  situation  he  did  not  understand,  ran 
to  the  door. 

"She's  coming,"  he  said.  He  opened  the 
door,  and  as  Vera  entered,  he  slipped  past  her 
and  closed  it  behind  him. 

Vera  walked  directly  to  the  chair  at  the 
top  of  the  centre  table.  She  was  nervous, 
and  she  was  conscious  that  that  fact  was 
evident.  To  avoid  shaking  hands  with  her 
visitor,  she  carried  her  own  clasped  in  front 
of  her,  with  the  fingers  interlaced.  She  tried 
to  speak  in  her  usual  suave,  professional  tone. 
"How  do  you  do,"  she  said. 

But  Winthrop  would  not  be  denied.  With 
a  smile  that  showed  his  pleasure  at  again 
seeing  her,  he  advanced  eagerly,  with  his 
hand  outstretched.  "How  are  you?"  he 
exclaimed.  "Aren't  you  going  to  shake 
hands  with  me?"  he  demanded.  "With  an 
old  friend?" 

Vera  gave  him  her  hand  quickly,  and  then, 
120 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

seating  herself  at  the  table,  picked  up  the 
ivory  pointer. 

"I  didn't  know  you  were  coming  as  an 
old  friend/'  she  murmured  embarrassedly. 
"  You  said,  you  were  coming  to  consult  Vera, 
the  medium." 

"But  you  said,  that  was  the  only  way  I 
could  come/'  protested  Winthrop.  " Don't 
you  remember,  you  said " 

Vera  interrupted  him.  She  spoke  dis 
tantly,  formally.  "What  kind  of  a  reading 
do  you  want?  "  she  asked.  ' '  A  hand  reading, 
or  a  crystal  reading?" 

Winthrop  leaned  forward  in  his  chair, 
frankly  smiling  at  her.  He  made  no  attempt 
to  conceal  the  pleasure  the  sight  of  her  gave 
him.  His  manner  was  that  of  a  very  old 
and  dear  friend,  who,  for  the  first  time,  had 
met  her  after  a  separation  of  years. 

"Don't  want  any  kind  of  a  reading,"  he 
declared.  "I  want  a  talking.  You  don't 
seem  to  understand,"  he  objected,  "that  I 
121 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

am  making  an  afternoon  call."  His  good- 
humor  was  unassailable.  Looking  up  with 
a  perplexed  frown,  Vera  met  his  eyes  and  saw 
that  he  was  laughing  at  her.  She  threw  the 
ivory  pointer  down,  and  leaning  back  in  her 
chair,  smiled  at  him. 

"I  don't  believe,"  she  said  doubtfully, 
"that  I  know  much  about  afternoon  calls. 
What  would  I  do,  if  we  were  on  Fifth  Avenue? 
Would  I  give  you  tea?  "  she  asked,  "  because," 
she  added  hastily,  "there  isn't  any  tea." 

"In  that  case,  it  is  not  etiquette  to  offer 
any,"  said  Winthrop  gravely. 

"Then,"  said  Vera,  "I'm  doing  it  right,  so 
far?" 

They  both  laughed;  Vera  because  she  still 
was  in  awe  of  him,  and  Winthrop  because  he 
was  happy. 

"You're  doing  it  charmingly,"  Winthrop 
assured  her. 

"Good!"  exclaimed  Vera.    "Well,  now," 
she  inquired,  "now  we  talk,  don't  we?" 
122 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"Yes,"  assented  Winthrop  promptly,  "we 
talk  about  you." 

"No,  I — I  don't  think  we  do,"  declared 
Vera,  in  haste.  "I  think  we  talk  about — 
Geneva."  She  turned  to  him  with  real  in 
terest.  "Is  the  town  much  changed?"  she 
asked. 

As  though  preparing  for  a  long  talk,  Win 
throp  dropped  his  hat  to  the  floor  and  settled 
himself  comfortably.  "Well,  it  is,  and  it 
isn't,"  he  answered.  "Haven't  you  been 
back  lately?"  he  asked. 

Vera  looked  quickly  away  from  him. 

"I  have  never  been  back!"  she  answered. 
There  was  a  pause  and  when  she  again  turned 
her  eyes  to  his,  she  was  smiling.  "But  I 
always  take  the  Geneva  Times,1  she  said, 
"and  I  often  read  that  you've  been  there. 
You're  a  great  man  in  Geneva." 

Winthrop  nodded  gravely. 

"Whenever  I  want  to  be  a  great  man,"  he 
said,  "I  go  to  Geneva." 
123 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"Why,  yes,"  exclaimed  Vera.  "Last  June 
you  delivered  the  oration  to  the  graduating 
class,"  she  laughed,  "on  'The  College  Man 
in  Politics/  Such  an  original  subject!  And 
did  you  point  to  yourself?"  she  asked  mock 
ingly,  "as  the — the  bright  example?" 

"No,"  protested  Winthrop,  "I  knew  they'd 
see  that." 

Much  to  her  relief,  Vera  found  that  of 
Winthrop  she  was  no  longer  afraid. 

"Oh!"  she  protested,  "didn't  you  say, 
'twelve  years  ago,  a  humble  boy  played 
ball  for  Hobart  College.  That  boy  now 
stands  before  you'?  Didn't  you  say 
that?" 

"Something  like  that,"  assented  the  Dis 
trict  Attorney.  "Oh!"  he  exclaimed,  "that 
young  man  who  showed  me  in  here;  your 
confederate,  or  fellow-conspirator,  or  look 
out  man,  or  whatever  he  is — told  me  you 
used  to  be  a  regular  attendant  at  those 
games." 

124 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"I  never  missed  one!"  Vera  cried.  She 
leaned  forward,  her  eyes  shining,  her  brows 
knit  with  the  effort  of  recollection. 

"I  used  to  tell  aunt,"  she  said  "I  had  to 
drive  in  for  the  mail.  But  that  was  only  an 
excuse.  Aunt  had  an  old  buggy,  and  an  old 
white  horse,  called  Roscoe  Conkling.  I 
called  him  'Rocks/  He  was  blind  in  one 
eye,  and  he  would  walk  on  the  wrong  side  of 
the  road;  you  had  to  drive  him  on  one  rein." 
The  girl  was  speaking  rapidly,  eagerly.  She 
had  lost  all  fear  of  her  visitor.  With  satis 
faction  Winthrop  recognized  this;  and  un 
consciously  he  was  now  frankly  regarding  the 
face  of  the  girl  with  a  smile  of  pleasure  and 
admiration. 

"And  I  used  to  tie  him  to  the  fence  just 
opposite  first  base,"  Vera  went  on,  excitedly, 
"and  shout — for  you!" 

"Don't  tell  me,"  interrupted  Winthrop,  in 
burlesque  excitement,  "that  you  were  that 
very  pretty  little  girl,  with  short  dresses  and 
125 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

long  legs;  who  used  to  sit  on  the  top  rail,  and 
kick,  and  cheer." 

Vera  shook  her  head  sternly. 

"I  was,"  she  said;  "but  you  never  saw 
me." 

"Oh,  yes,  we  did,"  protested  Winthrop. 
"We  used  to  call  you  our  mascot." 

"No;  that  was  some  other  little  girl,"  said 
Vera  firmly.  "You  never  looked  at  me,  and 
I — "  she  laughed,  and  then  frowned  at  him 
reproachfully;  "I  thought  you  were — mag 
nificent!  I  used  to  have  your  pictures  in 
base-ball  clothes  pinned  all  around  my  look 
ing-glass.  And  whenever  you  made  a  base 
hit,  I'd  shout  and  shout — and  you'd  never 
look  at  me!  And  one  day — "  she  stopped, 
and  as  though  appalled  by  the  memory, 
clasped  her  hands —  "Oh,  it  was  awful!" 
she  exclaimed;  "one  day  a  foul  ball  hit  the 
fence,  and  I  jumped  down  and  threw  it  to 
you,  and  you  said,  'Thank  you,  sis!'  And 
I,"  she  cried,  "thought  I  was  a  young  lady!" 
126 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"Oh!  I  couldn't  have  said  that,"  protested 
Winthrop,  " maybe  I  said,  'sister.'" 

"No,"  declared  Vera  energetically  shaking 
her  head,  "not  'sister,'  'sis.'  And  you  never 
did  look  at  me ;  and  I  used  to  drive  past  your 
house  every  day.  We  lived  only  a  mile 
below  you." 

"Where?"  asked  Winthrop. 

"On  the  lake  road  from  Syracuse,"  said 
Vera.  "Don't  you  remember  the  farm  a 
mile  below  yours — the  one  with  the  red  barn 
right  on  the  road?  Yes,  you  do,"  she  in 
sisted,  "the  cows  were  always  looking  over 
the  fence  right  into  the  road." 

"Of  course!"  exclaimed  Winthrop  delight 
edly.  "Was  that  your  house?" 

"Oh,  no,"  protested  Vera;  "ours  was  the 
little  cottage  on  the  other  side " 

"With  poplars  round  it?"  demanded  Win 
throp. 

"That's   it!"    cried   Vera   triumphantly; 
"with  poplars  round  it." 
127 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"Why,  I  know  that  house  well.  We  boys 
used  to  call  it  the  haunted  house." 

"That's  the  one,"  assented  Vera.  She 
smiled  with  satisfaction.  "Well,  that's  where 
I  lived  until  aunt  died,"  she  said. 

"And  then,  what?"  asked  Winthrop. 

For  a  moment  the  girl  did  not  answer. 
Her  face  had  grown  grave  and  she  sat  mo 
tionless,  staring  beyond  her.  Suddenly,  as 
though  casting  her  thoughts  from  her,  she 
gave  a  sharp  toss  of  her  head. 

"Then,"  she  said,  speaking  quickly;  "I 
went  into  the  mills,  and  was  ill  there,  and  I 
wrote  Paul  and  Mabel  to  ask  if  I  could  join 
them,  and  they  said  I  could.  But  I  was  too 
ill,  and  I  had  no  money — nothing.  And, 
then,"  she  raised  her  eyes  to  his  and  re 
garded  him  steadily;  "then  I  stole  that 
cloak  to  get  the  money  to  join  them, 
and  you — you  helped  me  to  get  away,  and 
—and " 

Winthrop  broke  in  hastily.  He  disre- 
128 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

garded  both  her  manner  and  the  nature  of 
what  she  had  said. 

"And  how  did  you  come  to  know  the 
Vances?"  he  asked. 

After  a  pause  of  an  instant,  the  girl  ac 
cepted  the  cue  his  manner  gave  her,  and 
answered  as  before. 

"Through  my  aunt,"  she  said.  "She  was 
a  medium  too." 

"Of  course!"  cried  Winthrop.  "I  remem 
ber  now.  That's  why  we  called  it  the 
haunted  house." 

"My  aunt,"  said  the  girl,  regarding  him 
steadily  and,  with,  in  her  manner,  a  certain 
defiance,  "was  a  great  medium.  All  the 
spiritualists  in  that  part  of  the  State  used  to 
meet  at  our  house.  I've  witnessed  some 
wonderful  manifestations  in  that  front  par 
lor."  She  turned  to  Winthrop  and  smiled. 
"So,  you  see,"  she  exclaimed,  "I  was  born 
and  brought  up  in  this  business.  I  am  the 
seventh  daughter  of  a  seventh  daughter. 
129 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

My  grandmother  was  a  medium,  my  mother 
was  a  medium — she  worked  with  the  Fox 
sisters  before  they  were  exposed.  But,  my 
aunt,"  she  added  thoughtfully,  judicially, 
"was  the  greatest  medium  I  have  ever  seen. 
She  did  certain  things  7  couldn't  understand, 
and  I  know  every  trick  in  the  trade — unless," 
she  explained,  "you  believe  the  spirits  helped 
her." 

Winthrop  was  observing  the  girl  intently, 
with  a  new  interest. 

"And  you  don't  believe  that?"  he  asked, 
quietly. 

' '  How  can  I  ?  "  Vera  said.  ' '  I  was  brought 
up  with  them."  She  shook  her  head  and 
smiled.  "I  used  to  play  around  the  kitchen 
stove  with  Pocahontas  and  Alexander  the 
Great,  and  Martin  Luther  lived  in  our  china 
closet.  You  see,  the  neighbors  wouldn't  let 
their  children  come  to  our  house — so,  the 
only  playmates  I  had — were  ghosts."  She 
laughed  wistfully.  "My!"  she  exclaimed, 
130 


"I  was  a  queer,  lonely  little  rat.  I  used  to 
hear  voices  and  see  visions.  I  do  still,"  she 
added.  With  her  elbows  on  the  arms  of  her 
chair,  she  clasped  her  hands  under  her  chin 
and  leaned  forward.  She  turned  her  eyes  to 
Winthrop  and  nodded  confidentially. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  said,  " sometimes  I 
think  people  from  the  other  world  do  speak 
to  me." 

"But  you  said,"  Winthrop  objected,  "you 
didn't  believe." 

"I  know,"  returned  Vera.  "I  can't!" 
Her  voice  was  perplexed,  impatient.  "Why, 
I  can  sit  in  this  chair,"  she  declared  earn 
estly,  "and  fill  this  room  with  spirit  voices 
and  rappings,  and  you  sitting  right  there 
can't  see  how  I  do  it.  And  yet,  in  spite  of 
all  the  tricks,  sometimes  I  believe  there's 
something  in  it." 

She  looked  at  Winthrop,  her  eyes  open 
with  inquiry.  He  shook  his  head. 

"Yes,"  insisted  the  girl.  "When  these 
131 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

women  come  to  me  for  advice,  I  don't  invent 
what  I  say  to  them.  It's  as  though  some 
thing  told  me  what  to  say.  I  have  never 
met  them  before,  but  as  soon  as  I  pass  into 
the  trance  state  I  seem  to  know  all  their 
troubles.  And  I  seem  to  be  half  in  this 
world  and  half  in  another  world — carry 
ing  messages  between  them.  Maybe,"  'her 
voice  had  sunk  to  almost  a  whisper;  she 
continued  as  though  speaking  to  herself, 
"I  only  think  that.  I  don't  know.  I 
wonder." 

There  was  a  long  pause. 

"I  wish,"  began  Winthrop  earnestly,  "1 
wish  you  were  younger,  or  I  were  older." 

"Why?"  asked  Vera. 

"Because,"  said  the  young  man,  "I'd  like 
to  talk  to  you — like  a  father." 

Vera  turned  and  smiled  on  him,  securely, 
with  frank  friendliness.  "Go  ahead,"  she 
assented;  "talk  to  me  like  a  father." 

Winthrop  smiled  back  at  her,  and  then 
132 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

frowned.  "You  shouldn't  be  in  this  busi 
ness,"  he  said. 

The  girl  regarded  him  steadily. 

" What's  the  matter  with  the  business?" 
she  asked. 

Winthrop  felt  she  had  put  him  upon  the 
defensive,  but  he  did  not  hesitate. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "there  may  be  some  truth 
in  it.  But  we  don't  know  that.  We  do 
know  that  there's  a  lot  of  fraud  and  deceit 
in  it.  Now,"  he  declared  warmly,  "there's 
nothing  deceitful  about  you.  You're  fine," 
he  cried  enthusiastically,  "you're  big!  That 
boy  who  was  in  here  told  me  one  story  about 
you,  that  showed " 

Vera  stopped  him  sharply. 

"What  do  you  know  of  me?"  she  asked 
bitterly.  "The  first  time  you  ever  saw  me, 
I  was  in  a  police  court;  and  this  morning — 
you  heard  that  man  threaten  to  put  me  in 
jail " 

In  turn,  by  abruptly  rising  from  his  chair, 
133 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

Winthrop  interrupted  her.  He  pushed  the 
chair  out  of  his  way,  and,  shoving  his  hands 
into  his  trousers'  pockets,  began  pacing  with 
long,  quick  strides  up  and  down  the  room. 
"What  do  I  care  for  that!"  he  cried  con 
temptuously.  He  tossed  the  words  at  her 
over  his  shoulder.  "I  put  lots  of  people  in 
jail  myself  that  are  better  than  I  am.  Only, 
they  won't  play  the  game."  He  halted,  and 
turned  on  her.  "Now,  you're  not  playing 
the  game.  This  is  a  mean  business;  taking 
money  from  silly  girls  and  old  men.  You're 
too  good  for  that."  He  halted  at  the  table 
and  stood  facing  her.  "I've  got  two  sisters 
uptown,"  he  said.  He  spoke  commandingly, 
peremptorily.  "And  to-morrow  I  am  going 
to  take  you  to  see  them.  And  we  fellow- 
townsmen,"  he  smiled  at  her  appealingly, 
"will  talk  this  over,  and  we'll  make  you 
come  back  to  your  own  people." 

For  a  moment  the  two  regarded  each  other. 
Then  the  girl  answered  firmly  but  with  a 
134 


slight  hoarseness  in  her  voice,  and  in  a  tone 
hardly  louder  than  a  whisper: 

"You  know  I  can't  do  that!" 

"I  don't!"  blustered  Winthrop.  "Why 
not?" 

"Because,"  said  the  girl  steadily,  "of  what 
I  did  in  Geneva." 

As  though  the  answer  was  the  one  he  had 
feared,  the  man  exclaimed  sharply,  rebel- 
liously. 

' '  Nonsense ! "  he  cried.  ' '  You  didn't  know 
what  you  were  doing.  No  decent  person 
would  consider  that." 

"They  do,"  said  the  girl,  "they  are  the 
very  ones  who  do.  And — it's  been  in  the 
papers.  Everybody  in  Geneva  knows  it. 
And  here  too.  And  whenever  I  try  to  get 
away  from  this — "  she  stretched  out  her 
hands  to  include  the  room  about  her — 
"some  one  tells!  Five  times,  now."  She 
leaned  forward  appealingly,  not  as  though 
asking  pity  for  herself,  but  as  wishing  him 
135 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

to  see  her  point  of  view.  "I  didn't  choose 
this  business,"  she  protested,  "I  was  sort  of 
born  in  it,  and,"  she  broke  out,  loyally,  "I 
hate  to  have  you  call  it  a  mean  business; 
but  I  can't  get  into  any  other.  Whenever  I 
have,  some  man  says,  'That  girl  in  your  front 
office  is  a  thief. "J  The  restraint  she  put 
upon  herself,  the  air  of  disdain  which  at  all 
times  she  had  found  the  most  convenient 
defence,  fell  from  her. 

"It's  not  fair!"  she  cried;  "it's  not  fair." 
To  her  mortification,  the  tears  of  self-pity 
sprang  to  her  eyes,  and  as  she  fiercely  tried 
to  brush  them  away,  to  her  greater  anger, 
continued  to  creep  down  her  cheeks.  "It 
was  nine  years  ago,"  she  protested;  "I  was 
a  child.  I've  been  punished  enough."  She 
raised  her  face  frankly  to  his,  speaking 
swiftly,  bitterly. 

"Of  course,  I  want  to  get  away!"  she  cried. 
"Of  course,  I  want  friends.  I've  never  had 
a  friend.  I've  always  been  alone.  I'm  tired, 
136 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

tired!  I  hate  this  business.  I  never  know 
how  much  I  hate  it  until  the  chance  comes 
to  get  away — and  I  can't." 

She  stopped,  but  without  lowering  her 
head  or  moving  her  eyes  from  his. 

"This  time,"  said  the  man  quietly,  "you're 
going  to  get  away  from  it." 

"I  can't,"  repeated  the  girl.  "You  can't 
help  me!" 

Winthrop  smiled  at  her  confidently. 

"I'm  going  to  try,"  he  said. 

"No,  please!"  begged  the  girl.  Her  voice 
was  still  shaken  with  tears.  She  motioned 
with  her  head  toward  the  room  behind  her. 

"These  are  my  people,"  she  declared  de 
fiantly,  as  though  daring  him  to  contradict 
her.  "And  they  are  good  people!  They've 
tried  to  be  good  friends  to  me;  and  they've 
been  true  to  me." 

Winthrop  came  toward  her  and  stood  be 
side  her;  so  close  that  he  could  have  placed 
his  hand  upon  her  shoulder.  He  wondered, 
137 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

whimsically,  if  she  knew  how  cruel  she  seemed 
in  appealing  with  her  tears,  her  helplessness 
and  loveliness  to  what  was  generous  and 
chivalric  in  him;  and,  at  the  same  time,  by 
her  words,  treating  him  as  an  interloper  and 
an  enemy. 

"That's  all  right,"  he  said  gently.  "But 
that  doesn't  prevent  my  being  a  good  friend 
to  you,  too,  does  it?  Or,"  he  added,  his 
voice  growing  tense  and  conscious — "my 
being  true  to  you?  My  sisters  will  be  here 
to-morrow,"  he  announced  briskly. 

Vera  had  wearily  dropped  her  arms  upon 
the  table  and  lowered  her  head  upon  them. 
From  a  place  down  in  the  depths,  she  mur 
mured  a  protest. 

"No,"  contradicted  Winthrop  cheerfully, 
"this  time  you  are  going  to  win.  You'll  have 
back  of  you,  if  I  do  say  it,  two  of  the  best 
women  God  ever  made.  Only,  now,  you 
must  do  as  I  say."  There  was  a  pause. 
"Will  you?"  he  begged. 
138 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

Vera  raised  her  head  slowly,  holding  her 
hand  across  her  eyes.  There  was  a  longer 
silence,  and  then  she  looked  up  at  him  and 
smiled,  pathetically,  gratefully,  and  nodded. 

"Good!"  cried  Winthrop.  "No  more 
spooks,"  he  laughed,  "no  more  spirit  rap- 
pings." 

Through  her  tears  Vera  smiled  up  at  him 
a  wan,  broken  smile.  She  gave  a  shudder 
of  distaste.  "Never!"  she  whispered,  "I 
promise."  Their  eyes  met;  the  girl's  look 
ing  into  his  shyly,  gratefully;  the  man's 
searching  hers  eagerly.  And  suddenly  they 
saw  each  other  with  a  new  and  wonderful 
sympathy  and  understanding.  Winthrop 
felt  himself  bending  toward  her.  He  was 
conscious  that  the  room  had  grown  dark,  and 
that  he  could  see  only  her  eyes.  "You  must 
be  just  yourself,"  he  commanded,  but  so 
gently,  so  tenderly,  that,  though  he  did  not 
know  it,  each  word  carried  with  it  the  touch 
of  a  caress,  "just  your  sweet,  fine,  noble  self!" 
139 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

Something  he  read  in  the  girl's  uplifted 
eyes  made  him  draw  back  with  a  shock  of 
wonder,  of  delight,  with  an  upbraiding  con 
science.  To  pull  himself  together,  he  glanced 
quickly  about  him.  The  day  had  really 
grown  dark.  He  felt  a  sudden  desire  to  get 
away;  to  go  where  he  could  ask  himself  what 
had  happened,  what  it  was  that  had  filled 
this  unknown,  tawdry  room  with  beauty  and 
given  it  the  happiness  of  a  home. 

"By  Jove!"  he  exclaimed  nervously,  "I 
had  no  idea  I'd  stayed  so  long.  You'll  not 
let  me  come  again.  Good-by — until  to 
morrow."  He  turned,  holding  out  his  hand 
and  found  that  again  the  girl  had  dropped 
her  face  upon  her  arm,  and  was  sobumg 
quietly,  gently. 

"Oh,  what  is  it?"  cried  Winthrop.  "What 
have  I  said?"  The  catch  in  the  girl's  voice 
as  she  tried  to  check  the  sobs,  wrenched  his 
heart.  "Oh,  please,"  he  begged;  "I've  said 
something  wrong?  I've  hurt  you?"  With 
140 


Suddenly  they  saw  each  other  with  a  new  and  wonderful  sympathy. 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

her  face  still  hidden  in  her  arms,  the  girl 
shook  her  head. 

"No,  no!"  she  sobbed.  Her  voice,  soft 
with  tears,  was  a  melody  of  sweet  and 
tender  tones.  "It's  only — that  I've  been 
so  lonely — and  you've  made  me  happy, 
happy!" 

The  sobs  broke  out  afresh,  but  Winthrop, 
now  knowing  that  they  brought  to  the  girl 
peace,  was  no  longer  filled  with  dismay. 

Her  head  was  bent  upon  her  left  arm,  her 
right  hand  lightly  clasped  the  edge  of  the 
table.  With  the  intention  of  saying  fare 
well,  Winthrop  took  her  hand  in  his.  The 
girl  did  not  move.  To  his  presence  she 
seemed  utterly  oblivious.  In  the  gathering 
dusk,  he  could  see  the  bent  figure,  could  hear 
the  soft,  irregular  breathing  as  the  girl  wept 
gently,  happily;  like  a  child  sobbing  itself  to 
sleep.  The  hand  he  held  in  his,  neither  re 
pelled  nor  invited,  and  for  an  instant  he  stood 
motionless,  holding  it  uncertainly.  It  was 
141 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

so  delicate,  so  helpless,  so  appealing,  so  al 
together  lovable.  It  seemed  to  reach  up, 
and,  with  warm,  clinging  fingers,  clutch  the 
tendrils  of  his  heart. 

Winthrop  bent  his  head  suddenly,  and 
lifting  the  hand,  kissed  it;  and  then,  without 
again  speaking,  walked  quickly  into  the  hall 
and  shut  the  door.  In  the  room  the  dusk 
deepened.  Through  the  open  windows  came 
the  roar  of  the  Sixth  Avenue  Elevated,  the 
insistent  clamor  of  an  electric  hansom,  the 
murmur  of  Broadway  at  night.  The  tears 
had  suddenly  ceased,  but  the  girl  had  not 
moved.  At  last,  slowly,  stiffly,  she  raised 
her  head.  Her  eyes,  filled  with  wonder,  with 
amazement,  were  fixed  upon  her  hand.  She 
glanced  cautiously  about  her.  Assured  she 
was  alone,  with  her  other  hand  she  lifted  the 
one  Winthrop  had  kissed  and  held  it  pressed 
against  her  lips. 

The  folding  doors  were  thrown  open,  let 
ting  in  a  flood  of  light,  and  Mabel  Vance 
142 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

entering  swiftly,  knelt  at  the  table  and  bent 
her  head  close  to  Vera. 

"That  woman's  in  the  hall,"  she  whis 
pered,  "that  niece  of  Hallowell's.  Paul  and 
Mannie  can't  get  rid  of  her.  Now  she's  got 
hold  of  Winthrop.  She  says  she  mil  see  you. 
Be  careful!" 

Vera  rose.  That  Mabel  might  not  see  she 
had  been  weeping,  she  walked  to  the  piano, 
covertly  drying  her  eyes. 

"What,"  she  asked  dully,  "does  she  want 
with  me?" 

"About  to-night,"  answered  Mabel.  She 
exclaimed  fiercely,  "I  told  them  there'd  be 
trouble!" 

With  Vance  upon  her  heels,  Helen  Coates 
came  in  quickly  from  the  hall.  Her  face  was 
flushed,  her  eyes  lit  with  indignation  and 
excitement.  In  her  hand  she  held  an  open 
letter. 

As  though  to  protect  Vera,  both  Vance  and 
his  wife  moved  between  her  and  their  visitor, 
143 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

but,  disregarding  them,  Miss  Coates  at  once 
singled  out  the  girl  as  her  opponent. 

"  You  are  the  young  woman  they  call  Vera, 
I  believe,"  she  said.  "I  have  a  note  here 
from  Mr.  Hallowell  telling  me  you  are  giving 
a  stance  to-night  at  his  house.  That  you 
propose  to  exhibit  the  spirit  of  my  mother. 
That  is  an  insult  to  the  memory  of  my  mother 
and  to  me.  And  I  warn  you,  if  you  attempt 
such  a  thing,  I  will  prevent  it." 

There  was  a  pause.  When  Vera  spoke  it 
was  in  the  tone  of  every-day  politeness.  Her 
voice  was  even  and  steady. 

"You  have  been  misinformed,"  she  said. 
"There  will  be  no  stance  to-night." 

Vance  turned  to  Vera,  and,  in  a  voice  lower 
than  her  own,  but  sufficiently  loud  to  include 
Miss  Coates,  said:  "I  don't  think  we  told 
you  that  Mr.  Hallowell  himself  insists  that 
this  lady  and  her  friends  be  present." 

"Her  presence  makes  no  difference,"  said 
Vera  quietly.  "There  will  be  no  stance  to- 
144 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

night.  I  will  tell  you  about  it  later,  Paul," 
she  added.  She  started  toward  the  door, 
but  Miss  Coates  moved  as  though  to  intercept 
her. 

"If  you  think,"  she  cried  eagerly,  "you 
can  give  a  seance  to  Mr.  Hallowell  without 
my  knowing  it,  you  are  mistaken." 

Vera  paused,  and  made  a  slight  inclination 
of  her  head. 

"That  was  not  my  idea,"  she  said.  She 
looked  appealingly  to  Vance.  "Is  that  not 
enough,  Paul?"  she  asked. 

"Quite  enough!"  exclaimed  the  man.  He 
turned  to  the  visitor  and  made  a  curt  move 
ment  of  the  hand  toward  the  open  door. 

"There  mil  be  a  seance  to-night,"  he  de 
clared.  "At  Mr.  HallowelPs.  If  you  wish 
to  protest  against  it,  you  can  do  so  there. 
This  is  my  house.  If  you  have  finished — " 
He  repeated  the  gesture  toward  the  open 
door. 

"I  have  not  finished,"  said  Miss  Coates 
145 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

sharply;  "and  if  you  take  my  advice,  you 
will  follow  her  example."  With  a  nod  of  the 
head  she  signified  Vera.  "When  she  sees 
she's  in  danger,  she  knows  enough  to  stop. 
This  is  not  a  question  of  a  few  medium's 
tricks, ' '  she  cried,  contemptuously.  ' '  I  know 
all  that  you  planned  to  do,  and  I  intend  that 
to-morrow  every  one  in  New  York  shall  know 
it  too." 

Like  a  cloak  Vera's  self-possession  fell  from 
her.  In  alarm  she  moved  forward. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  demanded. 

"I  have  had  you  people  followed  pretty 
closely,"  said  Miss  Coates.  Her  tone  was 
assured.  She  was  confident  that  of  those 
before  her,  she  was  the  master,  and  that  of 
that  fact  they  were  aware. 

"I  know,"  she  went  on,  "just  how  you 
tried  to  impose  upon  my  uncle — how  you 
tried  to  rob  me,  and  to-night  I  have  invited 
the  reporters  to  my  house  to  give  them  the 
facts." 

146 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

With  a  cry  Vera  ran  to  her. 

"No!"  she  begged,  "you  won't  do  that. 
You  must  not  do  that!" 

"Let  her  talk ! ' '  growled  Vance.  "Let  her 
talk!  She's  funny." 

"  No ! "  commanded  Vera.  Her  voice  rang 
with  the  distress.  "She  cannot  do  that!" 
She  turned  to  Miss  Coates.  "We  haven't 
hurt  you,"  she  pleaded;  "we  haven't  taken 
your  money.  I  promise  you,"  she  cried,  "we 
will  never  see  Mr.  Hallowell  again.  I  beg  of 
you " 

Vance  indignantly  caught  her  by  the  arm 
and  drew  her  back.  "  You  don't  beg  nothing 
of  her!"  he  cried. 

"I  do,"  Vera  answered  wildly.  She  caught 
Vance's  hand  in  both  of  hers.  "I  have  a 
chance,  Paul,"  she  entreated;  "don't  force 
me  through  it  again.  I  can't  stand  the  shame 
of  it  again."  Once  more  she  appealed  to 
the  visitor.  "Don't!"  she  begged.  "Don't 
shame  me." 

147 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

But  the  eyes  of  the  older  girl,  blind  to 
everything  save  what,  as  she  saw  it,  was  her 
duty,  showed  no  consideration. 

Vera's  hands,  trembling  on  his  arm,  drove 
Vance  to  deeper  anger.  He  turned  savagely 
upon  Miss  Coates. 

"You  haven't  lost  anything,  yet,  have 
you?"  he  demanded.  "She  hasn't  hurt  you, 
has  she?  If  it's  revenge  you  want,"  he  cried 
insolently,  "why  don't  you  throw  vitriol  on 
the  girl?" 

"Revenge!"  exclaimed  Miss  Coates  indig 
nantly.  "It  is  my  duty.  My  public  duty. 
I'm  not  alone  in  this;  I  am  acting  with  the 
District  Attorney.  It  is  our  duty."  She 
turned  suddenly  and  called,  "Mr.  Winthrop, 
Mr.  Winthrop!" 

For  the  first  time  Vera  saw,  under  the  gas 
jet,  at  the  farther  end  of  the  hall,  the  figures 
of  Mannie  and  Winthrop. 

"No,  no!"  she  protested;  "I  beg  of  you," 
she  cried  hysterically;  "I've  got  a  chance. 
148 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

If  you  print  this  thing  to-morrow,  I'll  never 
have  a  chance  again.  Don't  take  it  away 
from  me."  Impulsively  her  arms  reached 
out  in  an  eager  final  appeal.  "I'm  down," 
she  said  simply,  "give  me  a  chance  to  get  up." 

When  Miss  Coates  came  to  give  battle  to 
the  Vances,  she  foresaw  the  interview  might 
be  unpleasant.  It  was  proving  even  more 
unpleasant  than  she  had  expected,  but  her 
duty  seemed  none  the  less  obvious. 

"You  should  have  thought  of  that,"  she 
said,  "before  you  were  found  out." 

For  an  instant  Vera  stood  motionless, 
staring,  unconsciously  holding  the  attitude 
of  appeal.  But  when,  by  these  last  words, 
she  recognized  that  her  humiliation  could  go 
no  further,  with  an  inarticulate  exclamation 
she  turned  away. 

"The  public  has  the  right  to  know,"  de 
clared  Miss  Coates,  "the  sort  of  people  you 
are.  I  have  the  record  of  each  of  you " 

From  the  hall  Winthrop  had  entered 
149 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

quickly,  but,  disregarding  him,  Vance  broke 
in  upon  the  speaker,  savagely,  defiantly. 

"Print  'em,  then!"  he  shouted;  "Print 
'em!" 

"I  mean  to;"  declared  Miss  Coates; 
"yours,  and  hers,  she " 

Winthrop  placed  himself  in  front  of  her, 
shutting  her  off  from  the  others.  He  spoke 
in  an  earnest  whisper: 

"Don't!"  he  begged.  "She  has  asked  for 
a  chance.  Give  her  a  chance." 

Miss  Coates  scorned  to  speak  in  whispers. 

"She  has  had  a  chance,"  she  protested 
loudly.  "She's  had  a  chance  for  nine  years; 
and  she's  chosen  to  be  a  charlatan  and  a  cheat, 
and — "  The  angry  woman  hesitated,  and 
then  flung  the  word — "and  a  thief!" 

In  the  silence  that  followed  no  one  turned 
toward  Vera;  but  as  it  continued  unbroken 
each  raised  his  eyes  and  looked  at  her. 

They  saw  her  drawn  to  her  full  height; 
the  color  flown  from  her  face,  her  deep,  brood- 
150 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

ing  eyes,  flashing.  She  was  like  one,  by  some 
religious  fervor,  lifted  out  of  herself,  exalted. 
When  she  spoke  her  voice  was  low,  tense.  It 
vibrated  with  tremendous,  wondering  indig 
nation. 

' '  Do  you  know  who  I  am?  "  she  asked.  She 
spoke  like  one  in  a  trance.  "Do  you  know 
who  you  are  threatening  with  your  police  and 
your  laws?  I  am  a  priestess!  I  am  a  me 
dium  between  the  souls  of  this  world  and  the 
next.  I  am  Vera — the  Truth!  And,  I  mean 
— "  the  girl  cried  suddenly,  harshly,  flinging 
out  her  arm,  "that  you  shall  hear  the  truth! 
To-night  I  will  bring  your  mother  from  the 
grave  to  speak  it  to  you!" 

With  a  swift,  sweeping  gesture,  she  pointed 
to  the  door.  "  Take  those  people  away ! ' '  she 
cried. 

The  eyes  of  Winthrop  were  filled  with  pity. 

"Vera!"  he  said,  "Vera!" 

For  an  instant,  against  the  tenderness  and 
reproach  in  his  voice  the  girl  held  herself 
151 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

motionless;  and  then,  falling  upon  the 
shoulder  of  Mrs.  Vance,  burst  into  girlish, 
heart-broken  tears. 

"Take  them  away,"  she  sobbed;  "take 
them  away!" 

Mannie  Day  and  Vance  closed  in  upon  the 
visitors,  and  motioning  them  before  them, 
drove  them  from  the  room. 


152 


PART  III 

HT^HE  departure  of  the  District  Attorney 
••-  and  Miss  Coates,  left  Vera  free  to  con 
sider  how  serious,  if  she  carried  out  her 
threat,  the  consequences  might  be.  But  of 
this  chance  she  did  not  avail  herself.  In 
stead,  with  nervous  zeal  she  began  to  prepare 
for  her  masquerade.  It  was  as  though  her 
promise  to  Winthrop  to  abandon  her  old 
friends  had  filled  her  with  remorse,  and  that 
she  now,  by  an  extravagance  of  loyalty,  was 
endeavoring  to  make  amends. 

At  nine  o'clock,  with  the  Vances,  she  ar 
rived  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Hallowell.  Already, 
to  the  same  place,  a  wagon  had  carried  the 
cabinet,  a  parlor  organ,  and  a  dozen  of  those 
camp-chairs  that  are  associated  with  house 
weddings  and  funerals;  and  while,  in  the 
library  Vance  and  Mannie  arranged  these  to 
153 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

their  liking,  on  the  third  floor,  Vera,  with 
Mrs.  Vance,  waited  for  that  moment  to  ar 
rive  when  Vance  considered  her  entrance 
would  be  the  most  effective. 

This  entrance  was  to  be  made  through  the 
doorway  that  opened  from  the  hall  on  the 
second  story  into  the  library.  To  the  right 
of  this  door,  in  an  angle  of  two  walls,  was 
the  cabinet,  and  on  the  left,  the  first  of  the 
camp-chairs.  These  had  been  placed  in  a 
semicircle  that  stretched  across  the  room, 
and  ended  at  the  parlor  organ.  The  door 
from  Mr.  HallowelFs  bedroom  opened  di 
rectly  upon  the  semicircle  at  the  point  most 
distant  from  the  cabinet.  In  the  centre  of 
the  semicircle  Vance  had  placed  the  invalid's 
arm-chair. 

Vance,  in  his  manner,  as  professional  and 
undisturbed  as  a  photographer  focussing  his 
camera  and  arranging  his  screens  was  ex 
plaining  to  Judge  Gaylor  the  setting  of  his 
stage.  The  judge  was  an  unwilling  audience. 
154 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

Unlike  the  showman,  for  him  the  occasion 
held  only  terrors.  He  was  driven  by  mis 
givings,  swept  by  sudden  panics.  He  scowled 
at  the  cabinet,  intruding  upon  the  privacy 
of  the  room  where  for  years,  without  the 
aid  of  .accessories,  by  his  brains  alone,  he 
had  brought  Mr.  Hallowell  almost  to  the 
point  of  abject  submission  to  his  wishes.  He 
turned  upon  Vance  with  bitter  self-disgust. 

"So,  I've  got  down  as  low  as  this,  have  I?" 
he  demanded. 

Vance  heard  him,  undisturbed. 

"I  must  ask  you,"  he  said,  briskly,  "to 
help  me  keep  the  people  just  as  I  seat  them. 
They  will  be  in  this  half-circle  facing  the 
cabinet  and  holding  hands.  Those  we  know 
are  against  us,"  he  explained,  "will  have  one 
of  my  friends,  Professor  Strombergk,  or  Mrs. 
Marsh,  or  my  wife,  on  each  side  of  him.  If 
there  should  be  any  attempt  to  rush  the  cab 
inet — we  must  get  there  first.  I  will  be  out 
side  the  cabinet  working  the  rappings,  the 
155 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

floating  music,  and  the  astral  bodies."  At 
the  sight  of  the  expression  these  words 
brought  to  the  face  of  Gaylor,  Vance  per 
mitted  himself  the  shadow  of  a  smile.  "I 
can  take  care  of  myself,"  he  went  on,  "but 
remember — Vera  must  not  be  caught  outside 
the  cabinet!  When  the  lights  go  up,  she 
must  be  found  with  the  ropes  still  tied." 

Gaylor  turned  from  him  with  an  exclama 
tion  of  disgust. 

"Pah!"  he  muttered;  "It's  a  hell  of  a 
business!" 

Vance  continued  unmoved.  "And,  an 
other  thing,"  he  said,  "about  these  lights; 
this  switch  throws  them  all  off,  doesn't  it?" 
He  pressed  a  button  on  the  left  of  the  door, 
and  the  electric  lights  in  the  walls  and  under 
a  green  shade  on  the  library  table  faded  and 
disappeared,  leaving  the  room,  save  for  the 
light  from  the  hall,  in  darkness. 

"That's  the  way  we  want  it,"  said  the 
showman. 

156 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

From  the  hall  Mannie  appeared  between 
the  curtains  that  hung  across  the  doorway. 
"What  are  you  doing  with  the  lights?"  he 
demanded.  "You  want  to  break  my  neck? 
All  our  people  are  downstairs/'  he  announced. 

Vance  turned  on  the  lights.  At  the  same 
moment  Rainey  came  from  the  bedroom  into 
the  library.  It  was  evident  that  to  sustain 
his  courage  he  had  been  drinking.  He  made 
no  effort  to  greet  those  in  the  room,  but 
stood,  glaring  resentfully  at  the  cabinet  and 
the  row  of  chairs. 

"Well,"  exclaimed  Vance  cheerfully,  "if 
our  folks  are  all  here,  we're  all  right." 

Glancing  behind  him,  Mannie  took  Vance 
by  the  sleeve,  and  led  him  to  the  centre  of 
the  room. 

"No,  we're  not  all  right,"  said  the  boy; 
"that  Miss  Coates  has  brought  a  friend  with 
her.  She  says  Hallowell  told  her  she  could 
bring  a  friend.  She  says  this  young  fellow 
is  her  friend.  I  think  he's  a  Pink!" 
157 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"What  nonsense,"  exclaimed  Gaylor  in 
alarm.  "No  detective  would  force  his  way 
into  this  house." 

"She  says,"  continued  Mannie,  disregarding 
Gaylor,  and  still  addressing  Vance,  "'he's  a 
seeker  after  the  Truth/  I'll  bet,"  declared  the 
boy,  violently, "he's  a  seeker  after  the  truth!" 

Garrett  came  hastily  and  noiselessly  into 
the  room.  He  nodded  toward  Mannie. 

"Has  he  told  you?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  Gaylor  answered,  "who  is  he?" 

"The  reporter  who  was  here  this  morn 
ing,"  Garrett  returned.  "The  one  who 
threatened " 

"That'll  do,"  commanded  Gaylor.  In  the 
face  of  this  new  complication  he  again  be 
came  himself.  Suavely  and  politely  he 
turned  to  Vance:  "Will  you  and  your  friend 
join  Miss  Vera,"  he  asked,  "and  tell  her  that 
we  begin  in  a  few  minutes?" 

For  the  first  time,  aggressively  and  of 
fensively  Rainey  broke  his  silence. 
158 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"No,  we  won't  begin  in  a  few  minutes," 
he  announced,  "not  by  a  damned  sight!" 

The  explosion  was  so  unexpected  that,  for 
an  instant,  while  the  eyes  of  all  were  fixed  in 
astonishment  upon  the  speaker,  there  was, 
complete  silence.  Gaylor,  still  suave,  still 
polite,  looked  toward  Vance,  and  motioned 
him  to  the  door. 

"Will  you  kindly  do  as  I  ask?"  he  said. 
With  Mannie  at  his  side,  Vance  walked 
quickly  from  the  room.  Once  in  the  hall,  the 
boy  laid  a  detaining  hand  upon  the  arm  of 
the  older  man. 

"If  you'll  take  my  advice;  which  you 
won't,"  he  said,  "we'll  all  cut  and  run  now, 
while  we  got  the  chance!" 

In  the  library,  Gaylor  turned  savagely 
upon  his  fellow-conspirator. 

"Well!"  he  demanded. 

Rainey  frowned  at  him  sulkily.  "I  wash 
my  hands  of  the  whole  thing!"  he  cried. 

Gaylor  dropped  his  voice  to  a  whisper. 
159 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"What  are  you  afraid  of  now?  "  he  demanded. 
"If  you're  not  afraid  of  a  district  attorney, 
why  are  you  afraid  of  a  reporter?" 

"I'm  not  afraid  of  anybody,"  returned 
Rainey,  thickly.  "But,  I  don't  mean  to  be 
a  party  to  no  murder!"  He  paused,  shaking 
his  head  portentously.  "That  man  in  there," 
he  whispered,  nodding  toward  the  bedroom, 
"is  in  no  condition  to  go  through  this.  After 
that  shock  this  morning,  and  last  night — it'll 
kill  him.  His  heart's  rotten,  I  tell  you,  rot 
ten!" 

Garrett  snarled  contemptuously. 

"How  do  you  know?"  he  demanded. 

"How  do  I  know?"  returned  Rainey, 
fiercely;  "I  was  four  years  in  a  medical  col 
lege,  when  you  were  in  jail,  you " 

' '  Stop  that ! ' '  cried  Gaylor.  Glancing  fear 
fully  toward  the  open  door,  he  interposed 
between  them. 

"Don't  take  my  advice,  then,"  cried 
Rainey.  "Goon!  Kill  him!  And  he  won't 
160 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

sign  your  will.    Only,  don't  say  I  didn't  tell 
you." 

"Have  you  told  him?"  demanded  Gaylor. 

"Yes,"  Rainey  answered  stoutly.  "Told 
him  if  he  didn't  stop  this,  he  wouldn't  live 
till  morning." 

"Are  we  forcing  him  to  do  this?"  demanded 
Gaylor.  "No!  he's  forcing  it  on  us.  My 
God!"  he  exclaimed,  "do  you  think  I  want 
this  farce?  You  say,  yourself,  you  told  him 
it  would  kill  him,  and  he  will  go  on  with  it. 
Then  why  do  you  blame  us?  Can  we  help 
ourselves?" 

The  butler  had  distinguished  the  sounds  of 
footsteps  in  the  hall.  He  fell  hastily  to  re 
arranging  the  camp-chairs. 

"Hush!  "he  warned.  "Lookout!"  Gay 
lor  and  Rainey  had  but  time  to  move  apart, 
when  Winthrop  entered.  He  regarded  the 
three  men  with  a  smile  of  understanding. 

"I  beg  pardon,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  am  in 
terrupting?" 

161 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

Gaylor  greeted  him  with  exaggerated 
heartiness. 

' '  Ah,  it  is  Mr.  Winthrop ! "  he  cried .  "  Have 
you  come  to  help  us  find  out  the  truth  this 
evening?" 

"I  certainly  hope  not!"  said  Winthrop 
brusquely.  "I  know  the  truth  about  too 
many  people  already."  He  turned  to  Garret t 
who,  unobtrusively,  was  endeavoring  to  make 
his  escape. 

"I  want  to  see  Miss  Vera,"  he  said. 

"Miss  Vera,"  interposed  Gaylor,  "I'm 
afraid  that's  not  possible.  She  especially 
asked  not  to  be  disturbed  before  the  seance. 
I'm  sorry." 

Winthrop's  manner  became  suspiciously 
polite. 

' '  Yes?  "  he  inquired.  ' { Well,  nevertheless, 
I  think  I'll  ask  her.  Tell  Miss  Vera,  please," 
he  said  to  Garrett,  "that  Mr.  Winthrop  would 
like  a  word  with  her,  here,"  with  significance 
he  added,  "in  private." 
162 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

In  offended  dignity,  Judge  Gaylor  moved 
toward  the  door.  "Dr.  Rainey,"  he  said, 
stiffly,  "will  you  please  inform  Mr.  Hallowell 
that  his  guests  are  now  here,  and  that  I  have 
gone  to  bring  them  upstairs." 

"Yes,  but  you  won't  bring  them  upstairs, 
please,"  said  Winthrop,  "until  you  hear  from 
me." 

Gaylor  flushed  with  anger  and  for  a  mo 
ment  appeared  upon  the  point  of  mutiny. 
Then,  as  though  refusing  to  consider  himself 
responsible  for  the  manners  of  the  younger 
man,  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  left  the 
room. 

With  even  less  of  consideration  than  he 
had  shown  to  Judge  Gaylor,  Winthrop  turned 
upon  Rainey. 

"How's  your  patient?"  he  asked,  shortly. 
Rainey  was  sufficiently  influenced  by  the 
liquor  he  had  taken  to  dare  to  resent  Win 
throp 's  peremptory  tone.  His  own  in  reply 
was  designedly  offensive. 
163 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"My  patient?"  he  inquired. 

"Mr.  Hallowell,"  snapped  Winthrop,  "he's 
sick,  isn't  he?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  returned  the  Doctor. 

"You  don't  know?"  demanded  Winthrop. 
"Well,  /  know.  I  know  if  he  goes  through 
this  thing  to-night,  he'll  have  another  col 
lapse.  I  saw  one  this  morning.  Why  don't 
you  forbid  it?  You're  his  medical  adviser, 
aren't  you?" 

Rainey  remained  sullenly  silent. 

"Answer  me!"  insisted  the  District  At 
torney.  "You  are,  aren't  you?" 

"I  am,"  at  last  declared  Rainey. 

"Well,  then,"  commanded  Winthrop,  "tell 
him  to  stop  this.  Tell  him  /  advise  it." 

Through  his  glasses  Rainey  blinked  vio 
lently  at  the  District  Attorney,  and  laughed. 

"I  didn't  know,"  he  said,  "that  you  were 
a  medical  man." 

Winthrop  looked  at  the  Doctor  so  steadily, 
and  for  so  long  a  time,  that  the  eyes  of  the 
164 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

young  man  sought  the  floor  and  the  ceiling; 
and  his  sneer  changed  to  an  expression  of 
discomfort. 

"I  am  not,"  said  Winthrop.  "I  am  the 
District  Attorney  of  New  York."  His  tones 
were  cold,  precise;  they  fell  upon  the  super 
heated  brain  of  Dr.  Rainey  like  drops  from 
an  icicle.  "When  I  took  over  that  office," 
continued  Winthrop,  "I  found  a  complaint 
against  two  medical  students,  a  failure  to 
report  the  death  of  an  old  man  in  a  private 
sanitarium."  Winthrop  lowered  his  eyes, 
and  became  deeply  absorbed  in  the  toe  of 
his  boot.  "I  haven't  looked  into  the  papers, 
yet,"  he  said. 

Rainey,  swaying  slightly,  jerked  open  the 
door  of  the  bedroom.  "I'll  tell  him,"  he 
panted,  thickly.  "I'll  tell  him  to  do  as  you 
say." 

"Thank  you,  I  wish  you  would,"  said  Win 
throp. 

At  the  same  moment,  from  the  hall,  Gar- 
165 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

rett  announced,  "Mrs.  Vance,  sir."  And  Ma 
bel  Vance,  tremulous  and  frightened,  entered 
the  room. 

Winthrop  approached  her  eagerly. 

"Ah!  Mrs.  Vance,"  he  exclaimed,  "can  I 
see  Miss  Vera?" 

Embarrassed  and  unhappy,  Mrs.  Vance 
moved  restlessly  from  foot  to  foot,  and  shook 
her  head. 

"Please, Mr. District  Attorney," she  begged, 
"I'm  afraid  not.  This  afternoon  upset  her  so. 
And  she's  so  nervous  and  queer,  that  the  Pro 
fessor  thinks  she  shouldn't  see  nobody." 

Winthrop  nodded  comprehendingly. 

"The  Professor?  "  he  commented.  His  voice 
was  considerate,  conciliatory.  "Now,  Mrs. 
Vance,"  he  said,  "I've  known  Miss  Vera  ever 
since  she  was  a  little  girl,  known  her  longer 
than  you  have,  and,  I'm  her  friend,  and 
you're  her  friend,  and " 

"I  am,"  protested  Mabel  Vance,  tearfully, 
"Indeed  I  am!" 

166 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"I  know  you  are,"  Winthrop  interrupted 
hastily.  "You've  been  more  than  a  friend 
to  her,  you've  been  a  sister,  mother,  and  you 
don't  want  any  trouble  to  come  to  her,  do 
you?" 

"I  don't,"  cried  the  woman.  "Oh!"  she 
exclaimed  miserably,  "I  told  them  there'd  be 
trouble!" 

Winthrop  laughed  reassuringly. 

"Well,  there  won't  be  any  trouble,"  he  de 
clared,  "if  /  can  help  it.  And  if  you  want 
to  help  her,  help  me.  Persuade  her  to  let 
me  talk  to  her.  Don't  mind  what  the  Pro 
fessor  says." 

"I  will,"  declared  Mrs.  Vance  with  deter 
mination,  "I  will."  She  started  eagerly 
toward  the  hall,  and  then  paused  and  re 
turned.  Her  hands  were  clasped ;  her  round, 
baby  eyes,  wet  with  tears,  were  fixed  upon 
Winthrop  appealingly. 

"Oh,  please,"  she  pleaded,  "you're  not 
going  to  hurt  him,  are  you?  Paul,  my  hus- 
167 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

band,"  she  explained;  "he's  been  such  a  good 
husband  to  me." 

Winthrop  laughed  uneasily. 

"Why,  that'll  be  all  right,"  he  protested. 

"He  doesn't  mean  any  harm,"  insisted 
Mrs.  Vance,  "he's  on  the  level,  true, 
he  is!" 

"Why,  of  course,  of  course,"  Winthrop  as 
sented. 

Unsatisfied,  Mrs.  Vance  burst  into  tears. 
"It's  this  spirit  business  that  makes  the 
trouble!"  she  cried.  "I  tell  them  to  cut  it 
out.  Now,  the  mind  reading  at  the  theatre," 
she  sobbed,  "there's  no  harm  in  that,  is 
there?  And  there's  twice  the  money  in  it. 
But  this  ghost  raising — "  she  raised  her  eyes, 
appealingly,  as  though  begging  to  be  con 
tradicted,  "it's  sure  to  get  him  into  trouble, 
isn't  it?" 

Winthrop  shook  his  head,  and  smiled. 

"It  may,"  he  said.    Mrs.  Vance  broke  into 
a  fresh  outburst  of  tears.    "I  knew  it,"  she 
168 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

cried,  "I  knew  it."  Winthrop  placed  his 
hand  upon  her  arm  and  turned  her  in  the 
direction  of  the  door. 

"Don't  worry,"  he  said,  soothingly.  "Go 
send  Miss  Vera  here.  And — "  he  called  after 
her,  "don't  worry." 

As  Mabel  departed  upon  his  errand, 
Rainey  reentered  from  the  bedroom.  He 
carefully  closed  the  door  and  halted  with  his 
hand  upon  the  knob,  and  shook  his  head. 

"It's  no  use,"  he  said,  "he  will  go  on  with 
it.  It's  not  my  fault,"  he  whined,  "I  told 
him  it  would  kill  him.  I  couldn't  make  it 
any  stronger  than  that,  could  I?" 

Rainey  was  not  looking  at  Winthrop,  but, 
as  though  fearful  of  interruption,  toward  the 
door.  His  eyes  were  harassed,  furtive,  filled 
with  miserable  indecision.  Many  times  be 
fore  Winthrop  had  seen  men  in  such  a  state. 
He  knew  that  for  the  sufferer  it  foretold  a 
physical  break-down,  or,  that  he  would  seek 
relief  in  full  confession.  To  give  the  man 
169 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

confidence,  he  abandoned  his  attitude  of  sus 
picion. 

"That  certainly  would  be  strong  enough 
for  me,"  he  said,  cheerfully.  "Did  you  tell 
him  what  I  advised?" 

"Yes,  yes,"  muttered  Rainey,  impatiently. 
"He  said  you  were  invited  here  to  give  ad 
vice  to  his  niece,  not  to  him."  For  the  first 
time  his  eyes  met  those  of  Winthrop's  boldly. 
The  District  Attorney  recognized  that  the 
man  had  taken  his  fears  by  the  throat,  and 
had  arrived  at  his  decision. 

"See  here,"  exclaimed  Rainey;  "could  I 
give  you  some  information?" 

"I'm  sure  you  could,"  returned  Winthrop 
briskly.  "Give  it  to  me  now." 

But  Rainey,  glancing  toward  the  door, 
shrank  back.  Winthrop,  following  the  di 
rection  of  his  eyes,  saw  Vera.  Impatiently 
he  waved  Rainey  away. 

"At  the  office,  to-morrow  morning,"  he 
commanded. 

170 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

With  a  sigh  of  relief  at  the  reprieve,  Rainey 
slipped  back  into  the  bedroom. 

Winthrop  had  persuaded  himself  that  in 
seeking  to  speak  with  Vera,  he  was  making 
only  a  natural  choice  between  preventing  the 
girl  from  perpetrating  a  fraud,  or,  later,  for 
that  fraud,  holding  her  to  account.  But 
when  she  actually  stood  before  him,  he  recog 
nized  how  absurdly  he  had  deceived  himself. 
At  the  mere  physical  sight  of  her,  there  came 
to  him  a  swift  relief,  a  thrill  of  peace  and  deep 
content;  and  with  delighted  certainty  he 
knew  that  what  Vera  might  do  or  might  not 
do  concerned  him  not  at  all,  that  for  him 
all  that  counted  was  the  girl  herself.  With 
something  of  this  showing  in  his  face,  he 
came  eagerly  toward  her. 

"Vera!"  he  exclaimed.  In  the  word  there 
was  delight,  wonder,  tenderness ;  but,  if  the  girl 
recognized  this  she  concealed  her  knowledge. 
Instead,  her  eyes  looked  into  his,  frankly;  her 
manner  was  that  of  open  friendliness. 
171 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"Mabel  tells  me  you  want  to  talk  to  me," 
she  said  evenly,  "but,  I  don't  want  you  to. 
7  have  something  I  want  to  say  to  you.  I 
could  have  written  it,  but  this — "  For  an  in 
stant  the  girl  paused,  with  her  lips  pressed 
together.  When  she  spoke,  her  voice  carried 
the  firmness  and  finality  of  one  delivering  a 
verdict,  "but  this,"  she  repeated,  "is  the  last 
time  you  shall  hear  from  me,  or  see  me 
again." 

Winthrop  gave  an  exclamation  of  impa 
tience,  of  indignation. 

"No,"  returned  the  girl,  "it  is  quite  final. 
Maybe  you  will  not  want  to  see  me,  but " 

Winthrop  again  sharply  interrupted  her. 
His  voice  was  filled  with  reproach.  "Vera!" 
he  protested. 

"Well,"  said  the  girl  more  gently,  "I'm 
glad  to  think  you  do,  but  this  is  the  last,  and 
before  I  go,  I " 

"Go!"  demanded  Winthrop,  roughly. 
"Where?" 

172 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"Before  I  go,"  continued  the  girl,  "I  want 
to  tell  you  how  much  you  have  helped  me — 
I  want  to  thank  you " 

"You  haven't  let  me  thank  you,"  broke  in 
Winthrop,  "and,  now,  you  pretend  this  is 
our  last  meeting.  It's  absurd!" 

"It  is  our  last  meeting,"  replied  the  girl. 
Of  the  two,  for  the  moment,  she  was  the 
older,  the  more  contained. 

"On  the  contrary/'  contradicted  the  man. 
He  spoke  sharply,  in  a  tone  he  tried  to  make 
as  determined  as  her  own.  "Our  next  meet 
ing  will  be  in  ten  minutes — at  my  sister's.  I 
have  told  her  about  this  afternoon,  and  about 
you;  and  she  wants  very  much  to  meet  you. 
She  has  sent  her  car  for  you.  It's  waiting  in 
front  of  the  house.  Now,"  he  commanded, 
masterfully,  "you  come  with  me,  and  get  in 
it,  and  leave  all  this — "  he  gave  an  angry, 
contemptuous  wave  of  the  hand  toward  the 
cabinet,  "behind  you,  as,"  he  added  earn 
estly,  "you  promised  me  you  would." 
173 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

As  though  closing  from  sight  the  possi 
bility  he  suggested,  the  girl  shut  her  eyes 
quickly,  and  then  opened  them  again  to 
meet  his. 

"I  can't  leave  these  things  behind  me," 
she  said  quietly.  "I  told  you  so  this  after 
noon.  For  a  moment,  you  made  me  think  I 
could,  and  I  did  promise.  I  didn't  need  to 
promise.  It's  what  I've  prayed  for.  Then, 
you  saw  what  happened,  you  saw  I  was  right. 
Within  five  minutes  that  woman  came " 

"That  woman  had  a  motive,"  protested 
Winthrop. 

"That  woman,"  continued  the  girl  pa 
tiently,  "or  some  other  woman.  What  does 
it  matter?  In  five  minutes,  or  five  days, 
some  one  would  have  told."  She  leaned 
toward  him  anxiously.  "I'm  not  complain 
ing,"  she  said;  "it's  my  own  fault.  It's  the 
life  I've  chosen."  She  hesitated,  and  then  as 
though  determined  to  carry  out  a  programme 
she  had  already  laid  down  for  herself,  con- 
174 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

tinued  rapidly,  "and  what  I  want  to  tell  you, 
is,  that  what's  best  in  that  life  I  owe  to  you." 

"Vera!"  cried  the  man  sharply. 

"Listen!"  said  the  girl.  Her  eyes  were 
alight,  eager.  She  spoke  frankly,  proudly, 
without  embarrassment,  without  fear  of  being 
misconstrued,  as  a  man  might  speak  to  a 
man. 

"I'd  be  ungrateful,  I'd  be  a  coward,"  said 
the  girl,  "if  I  went  away  and  didn't  tell  you. 
For  ten  years  I've  been  counting  on  you.  I 
made  you  a  sort  of  standard.  I  said,  as  long 
as  he  keeps  to  his  ideals,  I'm  going  to  keep 
to  mine.  Maybe  you  think  my  ideals  have 
not  been  very  high,  but  anyway  you've  made 
it  easy  for  me.  Because  I'm  in  this  business, 
because  I'm  good  looking  enough,  certain 
men — "  the  voice  of  the  girl  grew  hard  and 
cool;  "have  done  me  the  honor  to  insult  me, 
and  it  was  knowing  you,  and  that  there  are 
others  like  you,  that  helped  me  not  to  care." 
The  girl  paused.  She  raised  her  eyes  to  his 
175 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

frankly.  The  look  in  them  was  one  of  pride 
in  him,  of  loyalty,  of  affection.  "And  now, 
since  Fve  met  you,"  she  went  on,  "I  find 
you're  just  as  I  imagined  you'd  be,  just  as 
I'd  hoped  you'd  be."  She  reached  out  her 
hand  warningly,  appealingly.  "And  I  don't 
want  you  to  change,  to  let  down,  to  grow 
discouraged.  You  can't  tell  how  many  more 
people  are  counting  on  you."  She  hesitated, 
and,  as  though  at  last  conscious  of  her  own 
boldness,  flushed  deprecatingly,  like  one 
asking  pardon.  "You  men  in  high  places," 
she  stammered  "you're  like  light-houses 
showing  the  way.  You  don't  know  how 
many  people  you  are  helping.  You  can't 
see  them.  You  can't  tell  how  many  boats 
are  following  your  light,  but  if  your  light 
goes  out,  they  are  wrecked."  She  gave  a 
sigh  of  relief.  "That's  what  I  wanted  to  tell 
you,"  she  said;  "and,  so  thank  you."  She 
held  out  her  hand.  "And,  good-by." 
Winthrop's  answer  was  to  clasp  her  hand 
176 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

quickly  in  both  of  his,  and  draw  her  toward 
him. 

"Vera,"  he  begged,  "come  with  me  now!" 

The  girl  withdrew  her  hand  and  moved 
away  from  him,  frowning.  "No,"  she  said, 
"no,  you  do  not  want  to  understand.  I  have 
my  work  to  do  to-night." 

Winthrop  gave  an  exclamation  of  anger. 

"You  don't  mean  to  tell  me,"  he  cried, 
"that  you're  going  on  with  this?" 

"Yes,"  she  said.  And  then  in  sudden 
alarm  cried:  "But  not  if  you're  here!  I'll 
fail  if  you're  here.  Promise  me,  you  will  not 
be  here." 

"Indeed,"  cried  the  man  indignantly,  "I 
will  not!  But  I'll  be  downstairs  when  you 
need  me.  And,"  he  added,  warningly,  "you'll 
need  me." 

"No,"  said  the  girl.  "No  matter  what 
happens,  I  tell  you  between  us,  this  is  the 
end." 

"Then,"  begged  the  man,  "if  this  is  the 
177 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

end,  for  God's  sake,  Vera,  as  my  last  request, 
do  not  do  it!" 

The  girl  shook  her  head.  "No,"  she  re 
peated  firmly.  "I've  tried  to  get  away  from 
it,  and  each  time  they've  forced  me  back. 
Now,  I'll  go  on  with  it.  I've  promised  Paul, 
and  the  others.  And  you  heard  me  promise 
that  woman." 

"But  you  didn't  mean  that!"  protested 
the  man.  "She  insulted  you,  you  were  an 
gry.  You're  angry  now,  piqued " 

"Mr.  Winthrop,"  interrupted  the  girl,  "to 
day  you  told  me  I  was  not  playing  the  game. 
You  told  the  truth.  When  you  said  this  was 
a  mean  business,  you  were  right.  But,"  for 
the  first  time  since  she  had  spoken  her  tones 
were  shaken,  uncertain;  "I've  been  driven 
out  of  every  other  business."  She  waited 
until  her  voice  was  again  under  control,  and 
then  said  slowly,  definitely,  "and,  to-night, 
I  am  going  to  show  Mr.  Hallowell  the  spirit 
of  his  sister." 

178 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

In  the  eyes  of  Winthrop  the  look  of  pain, 
of  disappointment,  of  reproach,  was  so  keen, 
that  the  girl  turned  her  own  away. 

"No,"  said  the  man  gently,  "you  will  not 
do  that." 

"You  can  stop  my  doing  it  to-night,"  re 
turned  the  girl,  "but  at  some  other  time,  at 
some  other  place,  I  will  do  it." 

"You,  yourself  will  stop  it,"  said  Win 
throp.  "You  are  too  honest,  too  fine,  to 
act  such  a  lie.  Why  not  be  yourself?"  he 
begged,  "why  not  disappoint  these  other 
people  who  do  not  know  you?  Why  disap 
point  the  man  who  knows  you  best,  who 
trusts  you,  who  believes  in  you " 

"You  are  the  very  one,"  interrupted  the 
girl,  "who  doesn't  know  me.  I  am  not  fine, 
I  am  not  honest.  I  am  a  charlatan  and  a 
cheat;  I  am  all  that  woman  called  me.  And 
that  is  why  you  can't  know  me.  That's 
why,  I  told  you,  if  you  did,  you  would  be 
sorry." 

179 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"I  am  not  sorry/'  said  Winthrop. 

"You  will  be,"  returned  the  girl,  "before 
the  night  is  over." 

"On  the  contrary,"  answered  the  man 
quietly,  "I  shall  wait  here  to  congratulate 
you — on  your  failure." 

"I  shall  not  fail,"  said  the  girl.  Avoiding 
his  eyes,  she  turned  from  him,  and,  for  a 
moment  stood  gazing  before  her  miserably. 
Her  lips  were  trembling,  her  eyes  moist  with 
rising  tears.  Then  she  faced  him,  her  head 
raised  defiantly. 

"I  have  been  hounded  out  of  every  decent 
way  of  living,"  she  protested  hysterically. 
"I  can  make  thousands  of  dollars  to-night," 
she  cried,  "out  of  this  one." 

Winthrop  looked  straight  into  her  eyes. 
His  own  were  pleading,  full  of  tenderness  and 
pity;  so  eloquent  with  meaning  that  those  of 
the  girl's  fell  before  them. 

"That  is  no  answer,"  said  the  man.    "You 
know  it's  not.    I  tell  you — you  will  fail." 
180 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

From  the  hall  Judge  Gaylor  entered  noisily. 
Instinctively  the  man  and  girl  moved  nearer 
together;  and  upon  the  intruder  Winthrop 
turned  angrily. 

"Well?"  he  demanded,  sharply. 

"I  thought  you  had  finished  your  talk," 
protested  the  Judge.  "Mr.  Hallowell  is 
anxious  to  begin." 

Winthrop  turned  and  looked  at  Vera  stead 
ily.  For  an  instant  the  eyes  of  the  girl 
faltered,  and  then  she  returned  his  glance  with 
one  as  resolute  as  his  own.  As  .though  ac 
cepting  her  verdict  as  final,  Winthrop  walked 
quickly  to  the  door.  "I  shall  be  downstairs," 
he  said,  "when  this  is  over,  let  me  know." 

Gaylor  struggled  to  conceal  his  surprise  and 
satisfaction.  "You  won't  be  here  for  the 
seance?"  he  exclaimed. 

"Certainly  not  "  cried  Winthrop.    "I—" 
He  broke  off  suddenly.    Without  again  look 
ing  toward  Vera,  or  trying  to  hide  his  dis 
pleasure,  he  left  the  room. 
181 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

Gaylor  turned  to  the  girl.  He  was  smiling 
with  relief. 

"Excellent!"  he  muttered.  "Excellent! 
What  was  he  saying  to  you,"  he  asked, 
eagerly,  "as  I  came  in — that  you  would 
fail?" 

The  girl  moved  past  him  to  the  door. 
"Yes,"  she  answered  dully. 

"But  you  will  not!"  cried  the  man. 
"We're  all  counting  on  you,  you  know. 
'Destroy  the  old  will.  Sign  the  new  will." 
he  quoted.  He  came  close  to  her  and 
whispered:  "That  means  thousands  of  dol 
lars  to  you  and  Vance,"  he  urged. 

The  girl  turned  and  regarded  him  with 
unhappy,  angry  eyes. 

"You  need  not  be  frightened,"  she  an 
swered.  For  the  man  before  her  and  for  her 
self,  her  voice  was  bitter  with  contempt  and 
self-accusation.  "Mr.  Winthrop  is  mistaken. 
He  does  not  know  me,"  she  said  miserably. 
"I  shall  not  fail." 

182 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

For  a  moment,  after  she  had  left  him, 
Gaylor  stood  motionless,  his  eyes  filled  with 
concern,  and  then,  with  a  shrug,  as  though 
accepting  either  good  or  evil  fortune,  he 
called  from  the  bedroom  Mr.  Hallowell,  and 
from  the  floor  below  the  guests  of  Hallowell, 
and  of  Vance. 

As  Hallowell,  supported  by  Rainey,  sank 
into  the  invalid's  chair  in  the  centre  of  the 
semicircle,  Gaylor  made  his  final  appeal. 

"Stephen,"  he  begged;  "are  you  sure 
you're  feeling  strong  enough?  Won't  some 
other  night " 

The  old  man  interrupted  him,  querulously. 

"No,  now!  I  want  it  over,"  he  commanded. 
"Who  knows,"  he  complained,  "how  soon  it 
may  be  before " 

The  sight  of  Mannie  entering  the  room 
with  Vance  caused  him  to  interrupt  himself 
abruptly.  He  greeted  the  showman  with  a 
curt  nod. 

"And  who  is  this?"  he  demanded. 
183 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

Mannie,  to  whom  a  living  millionaire  was 
much  more  of  a  disturbing  spectacle  than 
the  ghost  of  Alexander  the  Great,  retreated 
hastily  behind  Vance. 

"He  is  my  assistant,"  Vance  explained. 
"He  furnishes  the  music."  He  pushed  Man 
nie  toward  the  organ. 

' '  Music ! "  growled  Hallowell.  f '  Must  there 
be  music?" 

"It  is  indispensable,"  protested  Vance. 
"Music,  sir,  is  one  of  the  strongest  psychic 
influences.  It " 

"Nonsense!"  cried  Hallowell.  "Tricks," 
he  muttered;  "tricks!" 

Vance  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  smiled 
in  deprecation.  "I  am  sorry  to  find  you  in 
a  sceptical  mood,  Mr.  Hallowell,"  he  mur 
mured  reprovingly.  "It  will  hardly  help  to 
produce  good  results.  Allow  me,"  he  begged 
"to  present  two  true  believers." 

With  a  wave  of  the  hand  he  beckoned  for 
ward  a  stout,  gray-haired  woman  with  bulg- 
184 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

ing,  near-sighted  eyes  that  rolled  meaning- 
lessly  behind  heavy  gold  spectacles. 

"Mrs.  Marsh,  of  Lynn,  Massachusetts," 
proclaimed  Vance,  "of  whom  you  have  heard. 
Mrs.  Marsh,"  he  added,  "is  probably  the  first 
medium  in  America.  The  results  she  has 
obtained  are  quite  wonderful.  She  alone 
foretold  the  San  Francisco  earthquake,  and 
the  run  on  the  Long  Acre  Square  Bank." 

"I  am  glad  to  know  you,"  said  Mr.  Hal- 
lowell.  "Pardon  my  not  rising." 

The  old  lady  curtesied  obsequiously. 

"Oh,  certainly,  Mr.  Hallowell,"  she  pro 
tested.  "Mr.  Hallowell,"  she  went  on,  roll 
ing  the  name  delightedly  on  her  tongue,  "I 
need  not  tell  you  how  greatly  we  spiritualists 
rejoice  over  your  joining  the  ranks  of  the  be 
lievers." 

Hallowell  nodded.  He  was  not  altogether 
unimpressed.  "Thanks,"  he  commented 
dryly.  "But  I  am  not  quite  there  yet, 
madam." 

185 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"We  hope,"  said  Vance,  sententiously, 
"to  convince  Mr.  Hallowell  to-night." 

"And  I  am  sure,  Mr.  Hallowell,"  cried  the 
old  lady,  "if  any  one  can  do  it,  little  Miss 
Vera  can.  Hers  is  a  wonderful  gift,  sir,  a 
wonderful  gift!" 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,"  returned 
Hallowell. 

He  nodded  to  her  in  dismissal,  and  turned 
to  the  next  visitor.  "And  this  gentleman?" 
he  asked. 

"Professor  Strombergk,"  announced  Vance 
"the  distinguished  writer  on  psychic  and 
occult  subjects,  editor  of  The  World  Be 
yond." 

A  tall,  full-bearded  German,  in  a  too-short 
frock-coat,  bowed  awkwardly.  Upon  him, 
as  upon  Mannie  had  fallen  the  spell  of  the 
Hallowell  fortune.  He,  who  chatted  famil 
iarly  with  departed  popes  and  emperors,  who 
daily  was  in  communication  with  Goethe, 
Caesar  and  Epictetus,  thrilled  with  embarrass- 
186 


Professor  Strombergk,"  announced  Vance. 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

ment  before  the  man  who  had  made  millions 
from  a  coupling-pin. 

"And  Helen!"  Mr.  Hallowell  cried,  as  Miss 
Coates  followed  the  Professor.  "That  is  all, 
is  it  not?"  he  asked. 

Miss  Coates  moved  aside  to  disclose  the 
person  of  the  reporter  from  the  Republic, 
Homer  Lee. 

"I  have  taken  you  at  your  word,  uncle," 
she  said;  "and  have  brought  a  friend  with 
me."  In  some  trepidation  she  added: 

"He  is  Mr.  Lee,  a  reporter  from  the  Re 
public." 

"A  reporter!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Hallowell. 
Disturbed  and  yet  amused  at  the  audacity 
of  his  niece,  he  shook  his  head  reprovingly. 
"I  don't  think  I  meant  reporters,"  he  re 
monstrated. 

"You  said  in  your  note,"  returned  his 

niece,  "that  as  I  had  so  much  at  stake,  I 

could  bring  any  one  I  pleased,  and  the  less 

he  believed  in  spiritualism,  the  better.    Mr. 

187 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

Lee,"  she  added  dryly,  "believes  even  less 
than  I  do." 

"Then  it  will  be  all  the  more  of  a  triumph, 
if  we  convince  him,"  declared  Hallowell. 
"Understand,  young  man,"  he  proclaimed 
loudly,  "I  am  not  a  spiritualist.  I  am 
merely  conducting  an  investigation.  I  want 
the  truth.  If  you,  or  my  niece,  detect  any 
fraud  to-night,  I  want  to  know  it."  In 
cluding  in  his  speech  the  others  in  the  room, 
he  glared  suspiciously  in  turn  at  each.  "Keep 
your  eyes  open,"  he  ordered,  "you  will  be 
serving  me  quite  as  much  as  you  will  Miss 
Coates." 

Miss  Coates  and  Lee  thanked  him,  and 
recognizing  themselves  as  the  opposition, 
and,  in  the  minority,  withdrew  for  consulta 
tion  into  a  corner  of  the  bay-window. 

Vance  approached  Mr.  Hallowell. 

"If  you  are  ready,"  he  said,  "we  will  ex 
amine  the  cabinet.    Shall  I  wheel  it  over 
here,  or  will  you  look  at  it  where  it  is?  " 
188 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"If  it  is  to  be  in  that  corner  during  the 
seance,"  declared  Mr.  Hallowell,  'Til  look 
at  it  where  it  is." 

As  he  struggled  from  his  chair,  he  turned 
to  Mrs.  Marsh,  and  nodded  his  head  know 
ingly.  "You  see,  Mrs.  Marsh,"  he  said,  "I 
am  taking  no  chances." 

"That  is  quite  right,  Mr.  Hallowell," 
purred  the  old  lady.  "If  there  be  any  doubt 
in  your  mind,  you  must  get  rid  of  it,  or  we 
will  have  no  results." 

With  a  dramatic  gesture,  Vance  swept 
aside  from  the  opening  in  the  cabinet  the 
black  velvet  curtain.  "It's  a  simple  affair," 
he  said  indifferently.  "As  you  see,  it's  open 
at  the  top  and  bottom.  The  medium  sits 
inside  on  that  chair,  bound  hand  and  foot." 

In  turn,  Mr.  Hallowell,  Mrs.  Marsh,  Gay- 
lor,  Rainey,  Professor  Strombergk  entered 
the  cabinet.  With  their  knuckles  they  beat 
upon  its  sides.  They  moved  it  to  and  fro. 
They  dropped  to  their  knees,  and  with  their 
189 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

fingers  tugged  at  the  carpet  upon  which  it 
stood. 

Under  cover  of  their  questions,  in  the 
corner  of  the  bay-window,  Miss  Coates  whis 
pered  to  Lee : 

"Don't  look  now,"  she  warned,  "but  later, 
you  will  see  on  the  left  of  that  door  the  switch 
that  throws  on  the  lights.  When  I  am  sure 
she  is  outside  the  cabinet,  when  she  has  told 
him  not  to  give  the  money  to  me,  I'll  cry, 
'now!'  and  whichever  one  of  us  is  seated 
nearer  to  the  switch  will  turn  on  all  the  lights. 
I  think,"  Miss  Coates  added,  with,  in  her 
voice,  a  thrill  of  triumph  not  altogether  free 
from  a  touch  of  vindictiveness,  "when  my 
uncle  sees  her  caught  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  disguised  as  his  sister — we  will  have 
cured  him." 

"It  may  be,"  said  the  man. 

The  possibility  of  success  as  Miss  Coates 
pointed  it  out  did  not  appear  to  stir  in  him 
any  great  delight.  He  glanced  unwillingly 
190 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

over  his  shoulder.  "I  see  the  switch,"  he 
said. 

Leaning  on  the  arm  of  Gaylor,  Mr.  Hallo- 
well  returned  from  the  cabinet  to  his  chair. 
What  he  had  seen  apparently  strengthened 
his  faith  and,  in  like  degree,  inspired  him  to 
greater  enthusiasm. 

"Well,"  he  exclaimed,  "there  are  no  trap 
doors,  or  false  bottoms  about  that!  If  they 
can  project  a  spirit  from  that  sentry  box,  it 
will  be  a  miracle.  For  whom  are  we  wait 
ing?"  he  asked,  impatiently.  "Where  is 
Winthrop?" 

Judge  Gaylor  explained  that  Winthrop  pre 
ferred  to  wait  downstairs,  and  that  he  had 
said  he  would  remain  there  until  the  seance 
was  finished. 

"Afraid  of  compromising  his  position," 
commented  the  old  man.  "I'm  sorry.  I'd 
like  to  have  him  here."  He  motioned  Gaylor 
to  bend  nearer.  In  a  voice  that  trembled 
with  eagerness  and  excitement,  he  whispered, 
191 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"Henry,  I  have  a  feeling  that  we  are  going 
to  witness  a  remarkable  phenomenon." 

Gaylor's  countenance  grew  preternaturally 
grave.  He  nodded  heavily. 

"I  have  the  same  feeling,  Stephen,"  he 
returned. 

Vance  raised  his  hand  to  command  silence. 

"Every  one,"  he  called,  "except  the  com 
mittee,  who  are  to  bind  and  tie  the  medium, 
will  take  the  place  I  give  him,  and  remain  in 
it.  Mr.  Day  will  please  acquaint  Miss  Vera 
and  Mrs.  Vance  with  the  fact  that  we  are 
ready." 

Up  to  this  point  Vance  had  appeared  only 
as  a  stage  manager.  He  had  been  concerned 
with  his  groupings,  his  lights;  in  assigning 
to  his  confederates  the  parts  they  were  to 
play.  Now  that  the  curtain  was  to  rise,  as 
an  actor  puts  on  a  wig  and  grease  paint, 
Vance  assumed  a  certain  voice  and  manner. 
On  the  stage  the  critics  would  have  called  him 
a  convincing  actor.  He  made  his  audience 
192 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

believe  what  he  believed.  He  knew  the 
eloquence  of  a  pause,  the  value  of  a  sur 
prised,  unintelligible  exclamation.  One  mo 
ment  he  was  as  professionally  solemn  as  a 
" funeral  director";  the  next,  his  voice,  his 
whole  frame  would  shake  with  excitement, 
in  an  outburst  of  fanatic  fervor.  As  it 
pleased  him  he  could  play  Hamlet,  tenderly 
shocked  at  the  sight  of  his  dead  father,  or, 
Macbeth,  retreating  in  horror  before  the  ghost 
of  Banquo.  For  the  moment  his  manner  was 
that  of  the  undertaker. 

"Now,  Mr.  Hallowell,"  he  said  hoarsely, 
"please  to  name  those  you  wish  to  serve  on 
the  committee." 

Mr.  Hallowell  waved  his  arm  to  include 
every  one  in  the  room. 

"Everybody  will  serve  on  the  committee," 
he  declared.  "Everything  is  to  be  open  and 
above-board.  The  whole  city  is  welcome  on 
the  committee.  I  want  this  to  be  above 
suspicion." 

193 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

"That  is  my  wish,  also,  sir,"  said  Vance 
stiffly.  "But  a  committee  of  more  than 
three  is  unwieldy.  Suppose  you  name  two 
gentlemen,  and  I  one?  Or,"  he  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  "you  can  name  all  three." 

After  a  moment  of  consideration  Mr.  Hal- 
lowell  pointed  at  Lee.  "I  choose  Mr. — that 
young  man,"  he  announced,  "and  Judge 
Gaylor." 

"I  would  much  rather  not,  Stephen," 
Judge  Gaylor  whispered. 

"I  know,  Henry,"  answered  the  other; 
"but  I  ask  it  of  you.  It  will  give  me  con 
fidence."  He  turned  to  Vance.  "You  se 
lect  some  one,"  he  commanded. 

With  a  bow,  Vance  designated  the  tall 
German. 

"Will  Professor  Strombergk  be  accepta 
ble?"  he  asked. 

Mr.  Hallowell  nodded. 

"Then,  the  three  gentlemen  chosen  will 
please  come  to  the  cabinet." 
194 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

Vance,  his  manner  now  that  of  a  master 
of  ceremonies,  assigned  to  each  person  the 
seat  he  or  she  was  to  occupy.  Miss  Coates 
with  satisfaction  noted  that  only  Mrs.  Vance 
separated  Lee  from  the  electric  switch. 

"I  must  ask  you,"  said  Vance,  "to  keep 
the  seats  I  have  assigned  to  you.  With  us 
to-night  are  both  favorable  and  unfavorable 
influences.  And  what  I  have  tried  to  do  in 
placing  you,  is  to  obtain  the  best  psychic 
results."  He  moved  to  the  door  and  looked 
into  the  hall,  then  turned,  and  with  uplifted 
arm  silently  demanded  attention. 

"Miss  Vera,"  he  announced. 

Followed  closely,  like  respectful  courtiers, 
by  Mannie  and  Mrs.  Vance,  Vera  appeared  in 
the  doorway,  walked  a  few  feet  into  the  room, 
and  stood  motionless.  As  though  already  in 
a  trance,  she  moved  slowly,  without  volition, 
like  a  somnambulist.  Her  head  was  held  high, 
but  her  eyes  were  dull  and  unseeing.  Her 
arms  hung  limply.  She  wore  an  evening 
195 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

gown  of  soft  black  stuff,  that  clung  to  her 
like  a  lace  shawl,  and  which  left  her  throat 
and  arms  bare.  In  spite  of  the  clash  of  in 
terests,  of  antagonism,  of  mutual  distrust, 
there  was  no  one  present  to  whom  the  sight 
of  the  young  girl  did  not  bring  an  uneasy 
thrill.  The  nature  of  the  thing  she  proposed 
to  do,  contrasted  with  the  loveliness  of  her 
face,  which  seemed  to  mock  at  the  possibility 
of  deceit;  something  in  her  wrapt,  distant 
gaze,  in  the  dignity  of  her  uplifted  head,  in 
her  air  of  complete  detachment  from  her 
surroundings,  caused  even  the  most  sceptical 
to  question  if  she  might  not  possess  the  power 
she  claimed,  to  feel  for  a  moment  the  ap 
proach  of  the  supernatural. 

The  voices  of  the  committee  consulting  to 
gether,  dropped  suddenly  to  a  whisper;  the 
others  were  instantly  silent. 

In  his  arms  Mannie  carried  silken  scarfs, 
cords  and  ropes.  In  each  hand  he  held  a 
teacup.  One  contained  flour,  the  other  shot. 
196 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

Vance  took  these  from  him,  and  Mannie 
hurriedly  slipped  into  his  chair  in  front  of 
the  organ. 

"Gentlemen,"  explained  Vance,  "you  will 
use  these  ropes  and  scarfs  to  tie  the  medium. 
Also,  as  a  further  precaution  against  the  least 
suspicion  of  fraud  we  will  subject  her  to  the 
most  severe  test  known.  In  one  hand  she 
will  hold  this  flour;  the  other  will  be  filled 
with  shot.  This  will  make  it  impossible  for 
her  to  tamper  with  the  ropes." 

He  gave  the  two  cups  to  Gaylor,  and 
turned  to  Vera. 

' '  Are  you  ready?  "  he  asked.  After  a  pause, 
the  girl  slightly  inclined  her  head.  Lee,  with 
one  of  the  scarfs  in  his  hand,  approached  her 
diffidently.  He  looked  unhappily  at  the 
slight,  girlish  figure,  at  the  fair  white 
arms.  In  his  embarrassment  he  appealed 
to  Vance. 

"How  would  you  suggest?" —  he  asked. 

Vance,  apparently  shocked,  hastily  drew 
197 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

away.  "That  would  be  most  irregular,"  he 
protested. 

Apologetically  Lee  turned  to  the  girl. 

"Would  you  mind  putting  your  arms  be 
hind  you?"  he  asked.  He  laced  the  scarf 
around  her  arms,  and  drew  it  tightly  to  her 
wrists. 

"Tell  me  if  I  hurt  you,"  he  murmured; 
but  the  girl  made  no  answer.  To  what  was 
going  forward  she  appeared  as  unmindful  as 
though  she  were  an  artist's  manikin. 

"Will  you  take  these  now?"  asked  Gaylor; 
and  into  her  open  palms  he  poured  the  flour 
and  shot.  "And,  now,"  continued  Lee, 
"will  you  go  into  the  cabinet?"  As  she 
seated  herself,  he  knelt  in  front  of  her  and 
bound  her  ankles.  From  behind  her  Strom- 
bergk  deftly  wound  the  ropes  about  her 
body  and  through  the  rungs  and  back  of  the 
chair. 

"Would  you  mind  seeing  if  you  can  with 
draw  your  arms?"  Lee  asked.  The  girl 
198 


'Tell  me  if  I  hurt  you,"  he  murmured. 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

raised  her  shoulders,  struggled  to  free  her 
hands,  and  tried  to  rise.  But  the  efforts  were 
futile. 

"Are  the  gentlemen  satisfied?"  demanded 
Vance. 

The  three  men,  who  had  shown  but  little 
heart  in  the  work,  and  who  were  now  red  and 
embarrassed,  hastily  answered  in  the  affirma 
tive. 

"If  you  are  satisfied  the  ropes  are  securely 
fastened,"  Vance  continued,  "you  will  take 
your  seats."  Professor  Strombergk,  as  he 
moved  to  his  chair,  announced  in  devout, 
solemn  tones,  "Nothing  but  spirit  hands  can 
move  those  ropes  now." 

From  the  organ  rose  softly  the  prelude  to 
a  Moody  and  Sankey  hymn,  and,  in  keeping 
with  the  music,  the  voice  of  Vance  sank  to  a 
low  tone. 

"We  will  now,"  he  said,  "establish  the 
magnetic  chain.  Each  person  will  take  with 
his  right  hand  the  left  wrist  of  the  person  on 
199 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

his  or  her  right."  He  paused  while  this  order 
was  being  carried  to  effect. 

"Before  I  turn  out  the  lights,"  he  con 
tinued,  "I  wish  to  say  a  last  word  to  any 
sceptic  who  may  be  present.  I  warn  him 
that  any  attempt  to  lay  violent  hands  upon 
the  apparition,  or  spirit,  may  cost  the  me 
dium  her  life.  From  the  cabinet  the  medium 
projects  the  spirit  into  the  circle.  An  attack 
upon  the  spirit,  is  an  attack  upon  the  me 
dium.  There  are  three  or  four  well  authen 
ticated  cases  where  the  disembodied  spirit 
was  cut  off  from  the  cabinet,  and  the  medium 
died." 

He  drew  the  velvet  curtains  across  the 
cabinet,  and  shut  Vera  from  view.  "Are  you 
ready,  Mr.  Hallowell?"  he  asked.  Mr.  Hal- 
lowell,  his  eyes  staring,  his  lips  parted,  nodded 
his  head.  The  music  grew  louder.  Vance 
switched  off  the  lights. 

For  some  minutes,  except  for  the  creaking 
of  the  pedals  of  the  organ  and  the  low  throb 
200 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

of  the  music,  there  was  no  sound.  Then, 
from  his  position  at  the  open  door,  the  voice 
of  Vance  commanded  sternly:  "No  whisper 
ing,  please.  The  medium  is  susceptible  to 
the  least  sound."  There  was  another  longer 
pause,  until  in  hushed  expectant  tones  Vance 
spoke  again.  "The  air  is  very  heavily 
charged  with  electricity  to-night,"  he  said. 
"You,  Mrs.  Marsh,  should  feel  that?" 

"I  do,  Professor,"  murmured  the  medium; 
"I  do.  We  shall  have  some  wonderful  re 
sults!" 

Vance  agreed  with  her,  solemnly.  "I  feel 
influences  all  about  me,"  he  murmured. 

There  came  suddenly  from  the  cabinet 
three  sharp  raps.  These  were  instantly 
answered  by  other  quick  rappings  upon  the 
library  table.  ' '  They  are  beginning ! "  chanted 
the  voice  of  Vance.  The  music  of  the  organ 
ceased.  It  was  at  once  followed  by  the 
notes  of  a  guitar  that  seemed  to  float  in 
space,  the  strings  vibrating,  not  as  though 
201 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

touched  by  human  hands,  but  in  fitful, 
meaningless  chords  like  those  of  an  ^Eolian 
harp. 

"That  is  Kiowa,  your  control,  Mrs.  Marsh," 
announced  Vance  eagerly.  "Do  you  desire 
to  speak  to  him?" 

"Not  to-night,"  Mrs.  Marsh  answered. 
She  raised  her  voice.  "Not  to-night,  Kiowa," 
she  repeated.  "Thank  you  for  coming. 
Good-night." 

In  deep,  guttural  accents,  a  man's  voice 
came  from  the  ceiling.  "Good-night,"  it 
called.  With  a  final,  ringing  wail,  the  music 
of  the  guitar  suddenly  ceased. 

Again  rose  the  swelling  low  notes  of  the 
organ.  Above  it  came  the 'quick  pattering 
of  footsteps. 

The  voice  of  Rainey,  filled  with  alarm, 
cried,  "Some  one  touched  me!" 

"Are  you  sure  your  hands  are  held?"  de 
manded  Vance  reprovingly. 

"Yes,"  panted  Rainey;  "both  of  them. 
202 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

But  something  put  its  hand  on  my  forehead. 
It  was  cold." 

In  an  excited  whisper,  a  voice  in  the  circle 
cried,  "Look,  look!"  and  before  the  eyes  of 
all,  a  star  rose  in  the  darkness.  For  a  mo 
ment  it  wavered  over  the  cabinet  and  then 
fluttered  swiftly  across  the  room  and  re 
mained  stationary  above  the  head  of  the 
German  Professor. 

"There  is  your  star,  Professor,"  cried 
Vance.  "When  the  Professor  is  in  the  circle," 
he  announced  proudly,  "that  star  always 
appears." 

He  was  interrupted  by  a  startled  exclama 
tion  from  Lee. 

"Something  touched  my  face,"  explained 
the  young  man,  apologetically,  "and  spoke 
to  me." 

The  music  sank  to  a  murmur,  and  the 
room  became  alive  with  swift,  rushing  sounds 
and  soft  whisperings. 

The  voice  of  Mrs.  Marsh,  low  and  eager, 
203 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

could  be  heard  appealing  to  an  invisible 
presence. 

"The  results  are  marvellous,"  chanted 
Vance;  "marvellous!  The  medium  is  show 
ing  wonderful  power.  If  any  one  desires  to 
ask  a  question,  he  should  do  so  now.  The 
conditions  will  never  be  better."  He  paused 
expectantly.  "Mr.  Hallowell, ' '  he  prompted, 
"is  it  your  wish  to  communicate  with  any 
one  in  the  spirit  world?" 

There  was  a  long  pause,  and  then  the  voice 
of  Mr.  Hallowell,  harsh  and  shaken  answered, 
"Yes." 

"With  whom?"  demanded  Vance. 

There  was  again  another  longer  pause,  and 
then,  above  the  confusion  of  soft  whisperings, 
the  voice  of  the  old  man  rose  in  sharp  stac 
cato: 

"My  sister;  Catherine  Coates."  His  tone 
hardened,  became  obdurate,  final.  "But,  I 
must  see  her,  and  hear  her  speak!" 

Not  for  an  instant  did  Vance  hesitate.  In 
204 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

tense,  sepulchral  tones,  he  demanded  of  the 
darkness,  "Is  the  spirit  of  Catherine  Coates 
present?" 

The  whisperings  and  murmurs  ceased.  The 
silence  of  the  room  was  broken  sharply  by 
three  quick  raps.  "Yes,"  intoned  Vance; 
"she  is  present." 

The  voice  of  Hallowell  protested  fiercely, 
"I  won't  have  that!  I  want  to  see  her!" 

In  the  tone  of  an  incantation,  Vance  spoke 
again:  "Will  the  spirit  show  herself  to  her 
brother?"  The  raps  came  quickly,  firmly. 

"She  answers  she  will  appear  before 
you." 

There  was  a  moment  that  seemed  to  stretch 
interminably,  and  then,  the  eyes  of  all,  strain 
ing  in  the  darkness,  saw  against  the  black 
velvet  curtain  a  splash  of  white. 

As  it  moved  toward  them  it  took  shape, 

and  by  the  faint  light  that  came  through  the 

curtains  from  the  hall,  they  distinguished  the 

bent  figure  of  a  woman,  apparently  an  old 

205 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

woman,  with  a  white  cap  and  white  hair,  and 
across  her  shoulders  a  white  kerchief. 

Above  the  sobbing  of  the  organ,  the  voice 
of  Mr.  Hallowell  rang  out  in  a  sharp  ex 
clamation  of  terror.  "Who  is  that!"  he  de 
manded.  He  spoke  as  though  he  dreaded 
the  answer.  He  threw  himself  forward  in 
his  chair,  peering  into  the  darkness. 

"Is  that  you,  Kate?"  he  whispered.  His 
voice  was  both  incredulous  and  pleading. 
The  answer  came  in  feeble,  trembling  tones. 
"Yes." 

The  voice  of  Hallowell  shook  with  eagerness. 

"Do  you  know  me,  your  brother,  Ste 
phen?" 

"Yes." 

With  a  cry  the  old  man  fell  back,  groping 
blindly.  He  found  Gaylor's  arm  and  clutched 
it  with  both  hands. 

"My  God!  It's  Kate!"  he  gasped.  "I  tell 
you,  Henry,  it  is  Kate!" 

The  voice  of  Vance,  deep  and  hollow  like  a 
206 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

bell,  sounded  a  note  of  warning.  "Speak 
quickly,"  he  commanded.  "Her  time  on 
earth  is  brief."  Mr.  Hallowell's  hold  upon 
the  arm  of  his  friend  relaxed.  Fearfully  ai  d 
slowly,  he  bent  forward. 

"Kate!"  he  pleaded;  "I  must  ask  you  a 
question.  No  one  else  can  tell  me."  As 
though  gathering  courage,  he  paused,  and, 
with  a  frightened  sigh  again  began.  "I  am 
an  old  man,"  he  murmured;  "a  sick  man. 
I  will  be  joining  you  very  soon.  What  am  I 
to  do  with  my  money?  I  have  made  great 
plans  to  give  it  to  the  poor.  Or,  must  I  give 
it,  as  I  have  given  it  in  my  will,  to  Helen? 
Perhaps,  I  did  not  act  fairly  to  you  and 
Helen.  You  know  what  I  mean.  She  would 
be  rich,  but,  then  the  poor  would  be  that 
much  the  poorer."  The  confidence  of  the 
speaker  was  increasing,  as  though  to  a  living 
being,  he  argued  and  pleaded:  "And  I  want 
to  do  some  good  before  I  go.  What  shall  I 
do?  Tell  me." 

207 


There  was  a  pause  that  lasted  so  long  that 
those  who  had  held  their  breath  to  listen, 
again  breathed  deeply.  When  the  answer 
came,  it  was  strangely  deprecatory,  uncer 
tain,  unassured. 

"You,"  stammered  the  voice,  "you  must 
have  courage  to  do  what  you  know  to  be 
just!" 

For  a  brief  moment,  as  though  surprised, 
Mr.  Hallowell  apparently  considered  this; 
and  then  gave  an  exclamation  of  disappoint 
ment  and  distress. 

"But  I  don't  know,"  he  protested;  "that 
is  why  I  called  on  you.  I  want  to  go  into 
the  next  world,  Kate,"  he  pleaded,  "with 
clean  hands!" 

This  time  the  answer  came  more  firmly. 
But  it  was  still  without  feeling,  without  con 
viction. 

"You  cannot  bribe  your  way  into  the  next 
world,"  intoned  the  voice.  "If  you  pity  the 
poor,  you  must  help  the  poor,  not  that  you 
208 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

may  cheat  your  way  into  heaven,  but  that 
they  may  suffer  less.  Search  your  con 
science.  Have  the  courage  of  your  con 
science." 

"I  don't  want  to  consult  my  conscience," 
cried  the  old  man.  "I  want  you  to  tell  me." 
He  paused,  hesitating.  Eager  to  press  his 
question,  his  awe  of  the  apparition  still  re- 
sti  ained  him. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Kate?"  he  begged. 
"Am  I  to  give  the  money  where  it  will  do  the 
most  good — to  the  Hallowell  Institute,  or, 
am  I  to  give  it  to  Helen?  Which  am  I  to 
do?" 

There  was  another  long  silence,  and  then 
the  voice  stammered:  "If — if  you  have 
wronged  me,  or  my  daughter,  or  the  poor, 
you  must  make  restitution." 

The  hand  of  the  old  man  was  heard  to  fall 
heavily  upon  the  arm  of  his  chair.  His  voice 
rose  unhappily. 

"That  is  no  answer,  Kate!"  he  cried.  "Did 
209 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

you  come  from  the  dead  to  preach  to  me ! 
Tell  me — what  am  I  to  do — leave  my  money 
to  Helen,  or  to  the  Institute?" 

The  cry  of  the  old  man  vibrated  in  the  air. 
No  voice  rose  to  answer.  "Kate!"  he  en 
treated.  Still  there  was  silence.  "Speak  to 
me!"  he  commanded.  The  silence  became 
eloquent  with  momentous  possibilities.  So 
long  did  it  endure,  that  the  pain  of  the  sus 
pense  was  actual.  The  voice  of  Rainey 
choked  and  hoarse  with  fear,  broke  it  with 
an  exclamation  that  held  the  sound  of  an 
oath.  He  muttered  thickly,  "What  in  the 
name  of " 

He  was  hushed  by  a  swift  chorus  of  hisses. 
The  voice  of  Hallowell  was  again  uplifted. 

"Why  won't  she  answer  me?"  he  begged 
hysterically  of  Vance.  "Can't  you — can't 
the  medium  make  her  speak?" 

During  the  last  few  moments  the  music 
from  the  organ  had  come  brokenly.  The 
hands  upon  the  keys  moved  unsteadily, 
210 


VERA,THE    MEDIUM 

drunkenly.  Now  they  halted  altogether 
and  in  the  middle  of  a  chord  the  music  sank 
and  died.  Upon  the  now  absolute  silence 
the  voice  of  Vance,  when  he  spoke,  sounded 
strangely  unfamiliar.  It  had  lost  the  priest- 
like  intonation.  Its  confidence  had  departed. 
It  showed  bewilderment  and  alarm. 

"I — I  don't  understand,"  stammered  the 
showman.  "  Ask  her  again.  Put  your  ques 
tion  differently." 

Carefully,  slowly,  giving  each  word  its 
value,  Mr.  Hallowell  raised  his  voice  in  en 
treaty. 

"Kate,"  he  cried,  "I  have  made  a  new  will, 
leaving  the  money  to  the  poor.  The  old  will 
gives  it  to  Helen.  Shall  I  sign  the  new  will 
or  not?  Shall  I  give  the  money  to  Helen,  or 
the  Institute?  Answer  me!  Yes,  or  no." 

Before  the  eyes  of  all,  the  apparition,  as 

though  retreating  to  the  cabinet,  swayed 

backward,  then  staggered  forward.    There 

was  a  sob,  human,   heart-broken;    a  cry, 

211 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

thrilling  with  distress;  a  tumult  of  weeping, 
fierce  and  uncontrollable. 

They  saw  the  figure  tear  away  the  white 
kerchief  and  cap,  and  trample  them  upon 
the  floor.  They  saw  the  figure  hold  itself 
erect.  From  it,  the  voice  of  Vera  cried  aloud, 
in  despair. 

"I  can't!  I  can't!"  she  sobbed.  "It's  a 
lie!  I  am  not  your  sister!  Turn  on  the 
lights,"  the  girl  cried.  "Turn  on  the  lights!" 

There  was  a  crash  of  upturned  chairs,  the 
sound  of  men  struggling,  and  the  room  was 
swept  with  light.  In  the  doorway  Winthrop 
was  holding  apart  Vance  and  the  reporter. 

In  the  centre  of  the  room  stood  Vera, 
her  head  bent  in  shame,  her  body  shaken 
and  trembling,  her  hair  streaming  to  her 
waist. 

As  though  to  punish  herself,  by  putting  a 

climax  to  her  humiliation,  she  held  out  her 

arms   to   Helen   Coates.    "You   see,"    she 

cried.    "  I  am  a  cheat.    I  am  a  fraud ! "    She 

212 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

sank  suddenly  to  her  knees  in  front  of  Mr. 
Hallowell.  " Forgive  me,"  she  sobbed;  "for 
give  me!" 

With  a  cry  of  angry  protest,  Winthrop  ran 
to  her,  and  lifted  her  to  her  feet.  His  eyes 
were  rilled  with  pity.  But  in  the  eyes  of  Mr. 
Hallowell  there  was  no  promise  of  pardon. 
With  sudden  strength  he  struggled  to  his 
feet  and  stood  swaying,  challenging  those  be 
fore  him.  His  face  was  white  with  anger, 
his  jaw  closed  against  mercy. 

"You've  lied  to  me!"  he  cried.  "You've 
tried  to  rob  me!"  He  swept  the  room  with 
his  eyes.  With  a  flash  of  intuition,  he  saw 
the  trap  they  had  laid  for  him.  "All  of 
you!"  he  screamed.  "It's  a  plot!"  He 
shook  his  fist  at  the  weeping  girl.  "And 
you!"  he  shouted,  hysterically,  "the  law 
shall  punish  you! " 

Winthrop  drew  the  girl  to  him  and  put 
his  arm  about  her. 

"I'll  do  the  punishing  here,"  he  said. 
213 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

With  a  glad,  welcoming  cry,  the  old  man 
turned  to  him,  appealingly,  wildly. 

"Yes,  you!"  he  shouted.  "You  punish 
them!  She  plotted  to  get  my  money." 

The  girl  at  Winthrop's  side  shivered,  and 
shrank  from  him.  He  drew  her  back  roughly 
and  held  her  close.  The  sobs  that  shook  her 
tore  at  his  heart;  the  touch  of  the  sinking, 
trembling  body  in  his  arms  filled  him  with 
fierce,  jubilant  thoughts  of  keeping  the  girl 
there  always,  of  giving  battle  for  her,  of 
sheltering  her  against  the  world.  In  what 
she  had  done  he  saw  only  a  sacrifice.  In  her 
he  beheld  only  a  penitent;  who  was  self- 
accused  and  self-convicted. 

He  heard  the  voice  of  the  old  man  scream 
ing  vindictively:  "She  plotted  to  get  my 
money!" 

Winthrop  turned  upon  him,  savagely. 

"How  did  you  plot  to  get  it?"  he  retorted 
fiercely.  "You  know,  and  I  know.  I  know 
how  your  lawyer,  your  doctor,  your  servant 
214 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

plotted  to  get  it!"  His  voice  rose  and  rang 
with  indignation.  "You  all  plotted,  and  you 
all  schemed — and  to  what  end — what  was  the 
result" — he  held  before  them  the  fainting 
figure  of  the  girl — "that  one  poor  child  could 
prove  she  was  honest!" 

With  his  arms  still  about  her,  and  her 
hands  clinging  to  him,  he  moved  with  her 
quickly  to  the  door.  When  they  had  reached 
the  silence  of  the  hall,  he  took  her  hands  in 
his,  and  looked  into  her  eyes.  "Now,"  he 
commanded,  "you  shall  come  to  my  sisters!" 

The  waiting  car  carried  them  swiftly  up 
the  avenue.  Their  way  lay  through  the 
park,  and  the  warm,  mid-summer  air  was 
heavy  with  the  odor  of  plants  and  shrubs. 
Above  them  the  trees  drooped  deep  with 
leaves.  Vera,  crouched  in  a  corner,  had  not 
spoken.  Her  eyes  were  hidden  in  her  hands. 
But  when  they  had  entered  the  silent  reaches 
of  the  park  she  lowered  them  and  the  face 
she  lifted  to  Winthrop  was  pale  and  wet  with 
215 


VERA,    THE    MEDIUM 

tears.  The  man  thought  never  before  had 
he  seen  it  more  lovely  or  more  lovable.  Vera 
shook  her  head  dumbly  and  looked  up  at  him 
with  a  troubled  smile. 

"I  told  you,"  she  murmured  remorsefully, 
"you'd  be  sorry." 

"We  don't  know  that  yet,"  said  Winthrop 
gently,  "we'll  have  all  the  rest  of  our  lives  to 
find  that  out." 

Startled,  the  girl  drew  back.  In  her  face 
was  wonder,  amazement,  a  dawning  happi 
ness. 

Without  speaking,  Winthrop  looked  at  her, 
entreatingly,  pitifully,  beseeching  her  with 
his  eyes. 

Slowly  the  girl  bent  forward  and,  as  he 
threw  out  his  arms,  with  a  little  sigh  of  rest 
and  content  she  crept  into  them  and  pressed 
her  face  to  his. 

THE  END. 

216 


Books  by  RICHARD  HARDING  DAVIS 

PUBLISHED    BY   CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S    SONS 


NOVELS 

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Illustrated  in  color.    12mo.    $1.25 

"  Melodramatic  situations  abound  and  there  is  clever  invention  in  plot 
and  denouement.  One  can  finish  the  book  in  a  short  afternoon  and 
the  stories  are  so  interesting  that  the  reader  forgets  the  lapse  of 
time." — Boston  Globe. 

"There  is  a  vigor  and  go  about  these  stories  that  ensures  their  popu 
larity." — The  San  Francisco  Argonaut. 

CAPTAIN   MACKLIN:  HIS 
MEMOIRS 

Illustrated.     12mo.     $1.50 

"  An  admirable  story,  clear-cut,  brave,  spirited.  It  shows  Mr.  Richard 
Harding  Davis  in  his  maturity." — The  Bookman. 
"  It  must  stand  as  its  author's  masterpiece." 

— Boston  Evening  Transcript 

RANSON'S  FOLLY 

Illustrated.     12mo.     $1.50 

"  The  plot  is  carefully  conceived  and  skilfully  worked  out.  It  is  a 
story  that  will  hold  the  interest,  and  the  reader  who  thinks  he  has  it 
all  figured  out  before  the  end  will  have  another  guess.  It  is  a  rattling 
tale  of  army  life  on  a  far  Western  post." 

— The  New  York  Evening  Sun. 

SOLDIERS  OF  FORTUNE 

Illustrated.     12mo.     $1.50 

"  A  rousing  tale  of  adventure,  with  several  fine  fellows  in  it,  and  one 
woman  whom  we  are  glad  to  know.  ...  It  is  not  necessary  to  com 
mend  this  story;  it  has  won  its  way  already.  But  to  those  who  have 
not  read  it,  we  can  say,  '  Do  so  at  once.' " — The  Critic. 


Books  by  RICHARD  HARDING  DAVIS 

PUBLISHED    BY    CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 


STORIES 

THE   BAR   SINISTER 

Illustrated.     12mo.     $1.00 

"The  best  dog  story  since  '  Rab  and  His  Friends.' " 

— The  New  York  Evening  Sun. 

"  This  is  a  story  which  will  live  because  there  is  human  sympathy  in 
it  of  the  most  appealing  kind." — New  York  Times. 

THE  LION  AND  THE  UNICORN 

Illustrated.     12  mo.     $1.25 

"  In  perfection  of  significant  detail,  as  well  as  in  color  and  feeling,  the 
title  story  in  this  new  book  stands  unrivalled,  while  the  other  stories 
supply  ample  evidence  of  the  breadth  of  the  author's  sympathies  and 
extraordinary  keenness  of  his  observation  of  character." 

— Army  and  Navy  Register. 

THE   KING'S  JACKAL 

Illustrated.     12mo.     $1.25 

"  A  clean,  spirited  narrative,  told  in  the  clever,  captivating  style  and 
using  always  the  pure  and  perfect  English  that  is  one  of  Mr.  Davis' 
distinguishing  characteristics." — Milwaukee  World. 


CINDERELLA  AND   OTHER 
STORIES 

12mo.     $1.00 

"He  is  one  of  the  writers  peculiar  to  the  period,  to  whom  dullness 
would  seem  to  be  impossible.  There  are  five  sketches  in  the  book, 
and  each  is  so  good  in  its  way  that  it  is  not  easy  to  say  which  is  the 
best."— Public  Opinion. 


Books  by  RICHARD  HARDING  DAVIS 

PUBLISHED    BY    CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 


STORIES— Continued 

GALLEGHER  AND  OTHER 
STORIES 

12mo.     $1.00 

"Mr.  Davis's  stories  are  also  of  the  people  and  for  the  people;  and 
their  swift,  concentrated  style  makes  them  grateful  reading.  Mr. 
Davis's  Fifth  Avenue  sketches  are  as  unaffected  as  those  of  Cherry 
Street." — New  York  Evening  Post. 

STORIES  FOR  BOYS 

Illustrated.     12mo.     $1.00 

"These  capital  sketches  have  genuine  interest  of  plot,  a  hearty, 
breezy  spirit  of  youth  and  adventuresomeness  which  will  captivate 
the  special  audience  that  they  are  addressed  to  and  will  also  interest 
older  people." — Hartford  C  our  ant. 

TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE 

THE  CONGO  AND  COASTS  OF 
AFRICA 

Illustrated.     12 mo.     $1.50  net 

"  He  has  never  written  a  better  book  in  the  field  which  he  has  so 
often  exploited,  the  field  of  actualities." — New  York  Tribune. 
"  It  would  be  difficult  to  find  ...  a  more  picturesque,  entertaining 
and  graphic  volume." — Brooklyn  Standard-Union. 

REAL  SOLDIERS  OF  FORTUNE 

Illustrated.     12mo.     $1.50  net 

"  A  vivid  reminder  that  truth  is  stranger  than  fiction  and  quite  as 
thrilling.  The  book  is  a  series  of  brief,  graphic  and  captivating 
sketches  of  astonishing  careers." — Army  and  Navy  Journal. 


Books  by  RICHARD  HARDING  DAVIS 

PUBLISHED    BY    CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 


TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE— Continued 

WITH  BOTH  ARMIES  IN  SOUTH 
AFRICA 

Illustrated  from  photographs.     13 mo.     $1.50 

"  It  is  a  book  that  charms  and  interests  and  spreads  before  us  a  South 
African  landscape  and  the  moving  panorama  of  an  army  as  no  other 
book  has  done." — The  Detroit  Free-Press. 

THE  CUBAN  AND  PORTO  RICAN 
CAMPAIGNS 

Illustrated  from  photographs.     13 mo.     $1.50 

"  To  the  very  last  line,  the  book  is  written  with  a  keenness,  a  vivacity, 
a  skill  and  a  power  to  thrill  and  to  leave  an  impression  which  mark 
a  decided  advance  over  anything  that  Mr.  Davis  has  written  hereto 
fore." — Boston  Herald. 

FARCES 

MISS  CIVILIZATION:  A  One-Act 
Comedy 

13mo.      50  cents  net 

"  Amateur  performers  seeking  a  brief,  bright  play,  needing  few  prop 
erties  and  players,  yet  thoroughly  alive  from  start  to  finish,  should  find 
here  a  genuine  delight."— Chicago  Record-Herald. 

FARCES 

Including  "The  Galloper,"  "The  Dicta 
tor,"  and  "Miss  Civilization" 

Illustrated.     13 mo.     $1.50  net 

"  The  pure  fun  and  absurd  extravagances  of  these  slight  plays  make 
them  most  entertaining  on  the  stage." — The  Outlook. 


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